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THE 


Young  Declaimer 


BEING  A  COLLECTION  OF  PIECES  IN 


POETRY,  PROSE,  AND  DIALOGUE, 


DESIGNED  FOE  THE  USE  OF 


PUPILS  IN  INTERMEDIATE  SCHOOLS. 


By  ChARL-ES  J^TOEl^EkD,  a:  ii.; 

Author  of  "  Teacher's  Assistant,"  "  National  Orator," 
"  Child's  Speaker,"  etc. 


A.  S.  BAENES  AND  COMPANY, 
NEW  YORK  AND  CHICAGO. 


EDUCATION  DEPT,^ 

Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress  In  the  j^ear  1872, 

by  A.  S.  BARNES  &  CO., 

In  the  OAe«*etf  the  Li)?r«ji^  iit^' Washington,  D.  C. 


*  •    ■•     ^^   tf**?    **r  •**     *  " 

•  *  *  o*,5  ,*  «  ,5«*» ,    c  ♦  ^  ♦i  i* 


COISTTEISTTS. 


P-A.RT      I.-POETRY. 

If  we  would, 7 

Speak  no  111, 8 

The  World  as  it  is, 9 

A  Hero, 10 

Upward  and  Onward, 12 

The  Vanity  of  this  World, 13 

Up  and  Doing, 14 

The  Poor  and  the  Rich, 15 

Christ  in  the  Tempest, 17 

An  old  Maxim, 18 

Cleon  and  I, 20 

The  great  King  and  the  little  King, 21 

Mother's  Fool, 23 

Our  Garret, 25 

The  Better  for  it, 27 

A  Child's  Joy, 28 

The  Pilot, 29 

My  First  Whistle, 31 

Signs  of  the  Weather, 32 

It  Snows, 33 

What  are  the  wild  Waves  Saying"? 35 

**  They  Say," 36 

Boil  it  Down, 38 

Too  deep  for  that, 40 

The  Robin's  Rehearsal, 41 

Name  Unknown, 43 


MG9858 


CONTENTS, 

Angry  Words, 44 

Troublesome  Neighbors, 45 

When  Will  the  End  Come  ? 47 

Suppose, 49 

Airs  Well  that  Ends  Well, 50 

Kindly  Words, 52 

Some  one's  Servant  Girl, 53 

Kind  hearted  George, 55 

What  the  Sparrow  chirps, 56 

Smile  whene'er  you  can, 58 

Little  John  Gray, 59 

Deeds  of  Kindness, 60 

The  Eain, 62 

The  Life  Clock, 63 

Think  before  you  Speak, 64 

All  is  Action,  all  is  Motion, 06 

Yankee  Doodle  Junior, 67 

Try,  keep  Trying, 68 

Ambition,  False  and  True, 70 

Every  one  that  Asketh,  Receiveth, 71 

Sowing  and  Reaping, 72 

Something  still  to  Do, 73 

Boys^  and  Girls'  Rights, 74 

Pu^RT      II.-I>E,OSE. 

Goodness  of  God, ,  76 

The  Flowers, 77 

The  Clouds, 78 

Autumn, 79 

Perseverance, 81 

The  Tongue, 82 

Rivers, 82 

Winter, 84 

Words  of  Advice, 85 

Be  Busy, 86 


CONTENTS.  V 

Time, •     87 

The  Echo, 88 

A  Psalm 90 

Address  of  Welcome, 91 

Don't  Give  Up, 93 

A  New  Term, 94 

Old  Charlie, 95 

The  Rain-drop, 97 

Help  One  Another, 99 

True  Courage, 100 

The  Heavenly  World, 101 

Growth, ■ 102 

The  World, 104 

The  Sun  and  Wind, 105 

What  I  like  to  see, 106 

What  I  don;t  like  to  see, 108 

Selfishness, 109 

The  Squirrel, Ill 

Our  Conduct  and  Influence, 112 

Punctuality, 114 

GoodAdvice, 116 

How  to  have  Friends, 118 

Habits, 119 

Self-Conceit, 120 

Boys'  Pockets, 124 

Let  us  be  Friendly, 125 

The  Blessings  of  Sight 126 

I>.A.IiT      III.  — DI^LO&UES. 

Conduct, 128 

Boys'  Rights, 130 

The  Irish  Servant, 132 

Doing  Right, 135 

About  School, 137 

Don't  be  too  Positive, 139 


I  CONTENTS. 

Fortune  Tellmg, 141 

Strict  Honesty, 143 

On  Language, 147 

Punctuality, 1 53 

Haughtiness  Rebuked, 156 

On  Politeness, 159 

Hard  to  Please, 161 

The  Colonists, 164 

Honesty  the  Best  Policy, 168 

Learning  and  Usefulness, 170 

The  Children's  Choice, 172 

What  saith  the  Fountain? 175 

Sunrise  and  Sunset, 177 

When  we  Love  the  Sunshine, 178 

Wishes  and  Realities, 180 

I  Can  and  1  Can't, 182 

What  we  Love, 184 

Conscience, 185 

Freedom's  Jubilee, 186 

The  Child's  Lessons, 188 

The  Echo, 1 90 

What  to  be, 193 


RECIT^TIOIvT. 

God  is  Good, 195 

Hymn  of  Nature, 1 96 

Upward  and  Onward, 198 

Little  by  Little, 199 

Aspirations  of  Youth, 200 

Dare  and  Do, 201 

Do  Good, 202 

Sow  Seeds  of  Kindness 203 

Keep  to  the  Right, 204 

Speak  no  111, 204 


THE  TOIIN^G  DECLAIMER. 


If  We  Would. 

If  we  would  but  check  the  speaker 
When  he  spoils  a  neighbor's  fame ; 

If  we  would  but  help  the  erring 
Ere  we  utter  words  of  blame  ; 

If  we  would,  how  many  might  we 
Turn  from  paths  of  sin  and  shame. 

Ah!  the  wrongs  that  might  be  righted 
If  we  would  but  see  the  way ! 

Ah !  the  pains  that  might  be  lightened 
Every  hour  and  every  day, 

If  we  would  but  hear  the  pleadings 
Of  the  hearts  that  go  astray. 

Let  us  step  outside  the  stronghold 
Of  our  selfishness  and  pride  ; 

Let  us  lift  our  fainting  brothers ; 
Let  us  strengthen  ere  we  chide ; 

Let  us,  ere  we  blame  the  fallen, 
Hold  a  light  to  cheer  and  guide. 


THE    YOUNG    DECL AIMER. 

Ah,  how  blessed — ah,  how  blessed 
Earth  would  be  if  we'd  but  try 

Thus  to  aid  and  right  the  weaker, 
Thus  to  check  each  brother's  sigh ; 

Thus  to  walk  in,  duty's  pathway 
To  our  bfetljerflife  on  high. 

Ir  eacb  life^  however  lowly, 

There  are  seeds  of  mighty  good ; 

Still,  we  shrink  from  souls  appealing, 
With  a  timid  "  If  we  could  ; " 

But  God,  who  knoweth  all  things. 
Knows  the  truth  is,  "  If  we  would.'' 


Speak  no  111. 


Nay,  speak  no  ill ;  a  kindly  word 

Can  never  leave  a  sting  behind ; — 
And  oh !  to  breathe  each  tale  we've  heard 

Is  far  beneath  a  noble  mind. 
For  oft  a  better  seed  is  sown 

By  choosing  thus  a  kinder  plan ; 
For  if  but  little  good  we  know. 

Let's  speak  of  all  the  good  we  can. 

Give  me  the  heart  that  fain  would  hide — 
Would  fain  another's  fault  efface. 

How  can  it  please  our  human  pride 
To  prove  humanity  but  base  ? 


THE    YOUNG   DECLAIMER. 

No,  let  it  reach  a  higher  mode — 

A  nobler  estimate  of  man  : 
Be  earnest  in  the  search  of  good, 
And  speak  of  all  the  good  we  can. 

Then  speak  no  ill,  but  lenient  be 

To  others'  failings  as  your  own. 
If  you're  the  first  a  fault  to*  see. 

Be  not  the  first  to  make  it  known. 
For  life  is  but  a  passing  day ; 

No  lips  can  tell  how  brief  the  stay. 
Be  earnest  in  the  search  for  good. 

And  speak  of  all  the  good  we  may. 


The  World  as  it  Is. 


The  world  is  not  so  bad  a  world 

As  some  would  like  to  make  it ; 
Though  whether  good  or  whether  bad. 

Depends  on  how  we  take  it. 
For  if  we  scold  and  fret  all  day, 

From  dewy  morn  till  even. 
This  world  will  ne'er  afford  to  man 

A  foretaste  here  of  heaven. 

This  world  in  truth's  as  good  a  world 
As  e'er  was  known  to  any, 

Who  have  not  seen  another  yet. 
And  these  are  very  many  ; 


10  THE    YOUNG   DECL AIMER. 

And  if  the  men,  and  women  too, 
Have  plenty  of  employment, 

Those  sm*ely  must  be  hard  to  please 
Who  cannot  find  enjoyment. 

This  world  is  quite  a  clever  world, 

In  rain  or  pleasant  weather. 
If  people  would  but  learn  to  live 

In  harmony  together ; 
Nor  seek  to  burst  the  kindly  bond 

By  love  and  peace  cemented, 
And  learn  that  best  of  lessons  yet, 

Always  to  be  contented. 

Then  were  the  world  a  pleasant  world, 

And  pleasant  folks  were  in  it. 
The  day  would  pass  most  pleasantly 

To  those  who  thus  begin  it ; 
And  all  the  nameless  grievances 

Brought  on  by  borrowed  troubles, 
"Would  prove,  as  certainly  they  are, 

A  mass  of  empty  bubbles ! 


A  Hero. 


Perhaps  you  think  a  hero 
A  man  of  giant  might, 

A  warrior  in  armor, 

A  champion  for  the  right, 


THE    YOUNG   DECL AIMER.  11 

Who  through  the  world  goes  boasting 

That  wrong  shall  be  no  more ; 
The  glory  of  whose  exploits 

Is  simg  from  shore  to  shore. 

In  olden  times  a  hero 

Was  such  a  man,  I  know ; 
He  went  to  battle  aided   . 

By  javelin  and  bow. 
You  all  have  heard  of  Ajax, 

Of  Priam's  valiant  son, 
And  of  the  great  Achilles, 

Who  many  battles  won. 

But  now  to  be  a  hero, 

Is  quite  another  thing ; 
And  he  who  earns  the  title 

Is  nobler  than  a  king. 
'Tis  he  who  follows  duty, 

Who  scorns  to  be  untrue  ; 
Who's  guided  by  his  conscience, 

Not  by  what  others  do. 

And  you  may  be  a  hero, 

By  doing  all  you  can 
To  free  the  world  from  error. 

And  aid  your  brother  man. 
And  though  no  blast  of  trumpet 

Your  greatness  may  proclaim, 
With  heartfelt  benedictions 

Mankind  will  breathe  your  name. 


12  THE    YOUNG   DECL AIMER. 


TTpward  and  Onward. 

Battling  in  the  cause  of  truth 
With  the  zeal  and  strength  of  youth ; 
Upward,  raise  your  banner  higher, 
Onward,  urge  your  phalanx  nigher 

To  the  center  of  the  strife : 
Strike,  where  virtue  finds  a  foe — 
Strike,  while  love  directs  the  blow — 

Where  the  foes  of  man  are  rife. 

Be  your  watchword  truth  and  love. 
Be  your  stay  the  strength  above ; 
'Mid  the  pure,  remain  the  purest, 
'Mid  the  faithful,  be  the  surest — 

Temperance  your  banner  star. 
Ask  not  rest,  nor  pray  for  peace, 
'Till  the  demon  foe  shall  cease 

Life  and  all  its  joys  to  mar. 

Warriors  in  the  cause  of  right, 
Earnest  in  your  zeal  and  might, 
Joying  in  your  high  endeavor. 
Onward  press,  and  falter  never, 

'Till  the  victory  be  won. 
Shout,  until  the  field  ye  gain. 
Press  to  those  which  still  remain, 

Battling  till  the  work  be  done. 

—  Wm.  Andrew  Sigourney. 


THE    YOUNG    DECLAIMEE.  13 


The  Vanity  of  this  World. 

A  rosy  child  went  forth  to  play, 

In  the  first  flush  of  hope  and  pride, 
Where  sands  in  silver  beauty  lay. 

Made  smooth  by  the  retreating  tide ; 
And,  kneeling  on  the  trackless  waste, 

Whence  ebbed  the  waters  many  a  mile, 
He  raised,  in  hot  and  trembling  haste. 

Arch,  wall,  and  tower — a  goodly  pile. 

But  when  the  shades  of  evening  fell. 
Veiling  the  blue  and  peaceful  deep, 

The  tolling  of  the  distant  bell 

Called  the  boy  builder  home  to  sleep ; 

He  passed  a  long  and  restless  night. 

Dreaming  of  structures  tall  and  fair  ; — 

He  came  with  the  returning  light, 

And  lo,  the  faithless  sands  were  bare. 

Less  wise  than  that  unthinking  child 

Are  all  that  breathe  of  mortal  birth. 
Who  grasp,  with  strivings  warm  and  wild, 

The  false  and  fading  toys  of  earth. 
Gold,  learning,  glory — what  are  they 

Without  the  faith  that  looks  on  high  ? 
The  sand  forts  of  a  child  at  play. 

Which  are  not  when  the  waves  go  by. 


14  THE    YOUNG   DECLAIMER. 


XTp  and  Doinff. 


Boys,  be  up  and  doing, 
For  the  day's  begun ; 

Soon  will  come  the  noontide, 
Then  the  set  of  sun ; 

At  your  task  toil  bravely 
Till  your  work  is  done. 

Let  your  hands  be  busy 
In  some  useful  way  ; 

Don't  neglect  your  study. 
Don't  forget  your  play ; 

For  each  there's  time  enough 
Every  blessed  day. 

You  will  soon  be  men,  boys  i 
Soon  will  have  to  take 

The  places  of  your  fathers ; 
Fill  it  for  their  sake ; 

And  in  all  that's  noble 
Pray  be  wide  awake ! 

Boys,  be  kind  and  friendly ; 

Lend  a  helping  hand 
To  the  weak  and  feeble, 

Till  alone  they  stand ; 
And  in  loving  others 

Fulfill  God's  command. 


THE    YOUNG    DECLAIMER.  15 

Don't  be  mean  and  selfish ; 

Stoop  not  to  deceit ; 
In  all  things  be  manly, 

Life  will  then  be  sweet, 
And  Death's  coming  find  you 

With  your  work  complete. 

— KcAe  Cameron, 

>  ♦ » 


The  Poor  and  the  Rich. 

The  rich  man's  son  inherits  lands. 
And  piles  of  brick  and  stone  and  gold, 
And  tender  flesh  that  fears  the  cold, 
Nor  dares  to  wear  a  garment  old ; 
A  heritage,  it  seems  to  me, 
One  would  not  care  to  hold  in  fee. 

The  rich  man's  son  inherits  cares : 

The  bank  may  break,  the  factory  burn, 

Some  breath  may  burst  his  bubble  shares, 

And  soft  white  hands  would  scarcely  earn 

A  living  that  would  suit  his  turn ; 

A  heritage,  it  seems  to  me, 

One  would  not  care  to  hold  in  fee. 

What  does  the  poor  man's  son  inherit  ? 
Stout  muscles  and  a  sinewy  heart, 
A  hardy  frame,  a  hardier  spirit ; 


16  THE    YOUNG   DECLAIMER. 

King  of  two  hands,  he  does  his  part> 

In  every  useful  toil  and  art; 

A  heritage,  it  seems  to  me, 

A  king  might  wish  to  hold  in  fee. 

What  does  the  poor  man's  son  inherit  ^ 

Wishes  o'erjoyed  with  humble  things, 

A  rank  adjudged  by  toil-worn  merit, 

Content  that  from  enjoyment  springs, 

A  heart  that  in  his  labor  sings  ; 

A  heritage,  it  seems  to  me, 

A  king  might  wish  to  hold  in  fee. 

What  does  the  poor  man's  son  inherit? 

A  patience  learned  by  being  poor. 

Courage,  if  sorrow  come,  to  bear  it ; 

A  fellow-feeling  that  is  sure 

To  make  the  outcast  bless  his  door ; 

A  heritage,  it  seems  to  me, 

A  king  might  wish  to  hold  in  fee. 

Oh,  rich  man's  son,  there  is  a  toil 
That  with  all  others  level  stands ; 
Large  charity  doth  never  soil, 
But  only  whitens,  soft  white  hands; 
This  is  the  best  crop  from  thy  lands ; 
A  heritage,  it  seems  to  me, 
Worth  being  rich  to  hold  in  fee. 


THE   YOUNG    DECLAIMER.  17 

O^,  poor  man's  son,  scorn  not  thy  state ! 
There  is  worse  weariness  than  thine, — 
In  being  merely  rich  and  great ; 
Work  only  makes  the  soul  to  shine, 
And  makes  rest  fragrant  and  benign, 
A  heritage,  it  seems  to  mc. 
Worth  being  poor  to  hold  in  fee. 

Both  heirs  to  some  six  feet  of  sod, 
Are  equal  in  the  earth  at  last — 
Both  children  of  the  same  dear  God, 
Prove  title  to  your  heirship  vast, 
By  record  of  a  weil-lilled  past! 
A  heritage,  it  seems  to  me. 
Well  worth  a  life  to  hold  in  feeu 


>♦♦ 


Christ  in  the  Tempest. 

All  night  long  the  winds  were  raging 

O'er  the  lake  of  Galilee ; 
All  the  night  a  little  vessel 

Tossed  upon  the  stormy  sea, 

And  the  rowers,  worn  v,^ith  v^-atching. 

Pressed  with  toil,  overwhelmed  Vvdth  fear. 

Toward  .the  morning  watch,  a  whisper 
O'er  the  waters^  seemed  to  hear. 


18  THE    YOUNG   DECLAIMER. 

And  a  form  amid  the  billows, 

Spirit-like  yet  firm,  did  tread ; 
And  again  the  voice  rose  sweeter 

"  It  is  I,  be  not  afraid." 

It  was  JesuSy  and  the  tumult 

At  His  voice  of  peace  was  stilled^ 

While  the  hearts  of  the  disciples — 
All  with  grateful  love  were  filled^ 

Storms  arise  on  every  pathway ; 

Every  life  the  tempest  knows  ; 
Grief  and  pain  and  fearful  watching 

Keep  the  spirit  from  repose^ 

Yet  we  need  not  walk  in  terror, 
Though  the  thunder&  fill  the  sky ; 

For  the  voice  af  Jesus  crieth 

Through  the  darkness — "  It  is  Z" 

— Eleanor  &  Demi(r* 


An  Old  Maxim. 


''  Do  as  they  do  in  Spaitt, 
Wben  it  rains,  let  it  rain.' 


The  year  is  not  all  summer  hours. 

And  as  the  time  goes  by 
The  harvest  and  the  brightest  flowers 

Will  hang  their  heads  and  d'e. 


THE    YOUNG   DECLAIMER.  19 

The  winds  of  the  warm  bright  weather 
Will  roughen  and  chill  you  through, 

And  the  clouds  will  gather  and  gather, 
And  shut  out  all  the  blue. 

Then  "  do  as  they  do  in  Spain, 

And  if  it  rains,  let  it  rain ! " 

All  days  cannot  be  holidays. 

For  the  living  must  be  fed. 
And  the  men  must  work  and  the  women  work 

To  get  the  children  bread. 
And  when  your  time  is  come,  why  then 

Your  playthings  put  away. 
And  take  the  place  of  women  and  men 

Who  work  for  you  to-day. 
Ah !  "  do  as  they  do  in  Spain, 
And  if  it  rains,  let  it  rain." 

The  world's  not  all  a  pleasure-ground, 

'Tis  full  of  pain  and  ill. 
And  when,  it  turns  itself  around, 

As  turn  itself  it  will. 
And  that  before  'tis  very  long. 

Why,  then,  my  girl  and  boy. 
Just  keep  your  hearts  as  brave  and  strong 

As  in  the  time  of  joy. 
And  "  do  as  they  do  in  Spain, 
And  if  it  rains,  let  it  rain ! " 

— Alice  Carey, 


20  THE   YOUNG   DECLAIMER. 

Cleon  and  !• 

Cleon  hath  a  million  acres — 

Ne'er  a  one  have  I ; 
Cleon  dwelleth  in  a  palace — 

In  a  cottage,  I ; 
Cleon  hath  a  dozen  fortunes— 

Not  a  penny,  I ; 
But  the  poorer  of  the  twain  is 

Cleon,  and  not  I. 

Cleon,  true,  possesseth  acres, 

But  the  landscape,  I ; 
Half  the  charms  to  me  it  yieldeth 

Money  cannot  buy ; 
Cleon  harbors  sloth  and  dullness, 

Freshening  vigor,  I ; 
He  in  velvet,  I  in  fustian, — 

Richer  man  am  I. 

Cleon  is  a  slave  to  grandeur — 

Free  as  thought  am  I ; 
Cleon  fees  a  score  of  doctors-— 

Need  of  none  have  I ; 
Wealth  surrounded,  care-environed. 

Cleon  fears  to  die ; 
Death  may  come,  he'll  find  me  ready, 

Happier  man  am  I. 


THE    YOUNG    DECLAIMER.  21 

Cleon  sees  no  charms  in  Nature — 
In  a  daisy,  I ; 

Cleon  hears  no  anthem  ringing 
In  the  sea  and  sky ; 

Nature  sings  to  me  forever- 
Earnest  listener,  I ; 

State  for  state,  with  all  attendants. 
Who  would  change  ? — Not  I. 

—  Chas,  Machay, 


The  Great  King-  and  the  Little  Kinir. 

One  day  the  birds  all  met  in  a  tree, 

But  they  didn't  meet  to  sing — 
They  met  to  argue  politics 

And  to  choose  themselves  a  king. 
There  were  so  many  overhead, 

Coming  and  going  back. 
And  so  many  round  about  the  tree, 

That  the  air  was  fairly  black. 

Some  chirped,  some  cried,  some  screamed  aloud. 

Some  sat  with  slanting  eye. 
For  there  were  many  candidates, 

And  party  strife  ran  high. 


22  THE   YOUNG   DECLAIMER. 

At  last  it  was  agreed  by  all 

To  choose  the  bird  whose  wing 
Could  soar  the  nearest  to  the  sky, 

And  crown  him  for  their  king. 

The  swallow  tried  her  strength,  and  then 

The  blackbird  and  the  blue, 
And  then  the  sturdy  honest  quail ; 

But  none  of  them  would  do. 
Then  all  at  once  the  eagle  swooped 

From  out  the  fluttering  crowd, 
And  in  a  minute  more  his  head 

Was  level  with  a  cloud. 

Then  what  was  the  astonishment 

Of  all  the  birds  to  see 
A  little  wren  upon  his  tail, 

Who  cried  out,  "  Look  at  me ! " 
So  half  the  birds  began  to  cry. 

And  half  began  to  sing, 
For  some  reviled  him  for  a  knave. 

And  some  would  have  him  king. 

Just  then  an  owl,  who  lived  hard  by] 

Withm  a  hollow  stub. 
Called,  "  Wren,  come  down  and  get  your  crown, 

Or  lose  it — there's  the  rub !  " 
"  Good  eagle,  help  me,"  cried  the  wren. 

Ashamed  and  out  of  breath — 
"  I  cannot  fly  so  near  the  sky, 

And  if  I  fall  'tis  death ! " 


THE    YOUNG    DECLAIMER,  23 

No  honor  such  a  flight  as  this 

To  any  bird  could  bring, 
And  so  they  named  him  Regulus, 

Which  means  a  little  king. 
The  eagle's  strength  was  in  himself, 

To  fly  or  up  or  down, 
And  so  they  named  him  king  of  birds, 

And  so  he  won  his  crown. 

— Alice  Cfarey. 


Mother's  Fool.' 


^'  'Tis  plain  to  me,"  said  the  farmer's  wife, 
^^  Those  boys  will  make  their  marks  in  life ; 
They  never  were  made  to  handle  a  hoe, 
And  at  once  to  college  they  ought  to  go ; 
Yes,  John  and  Henry — 'tis  clear  to  me — 
Great  men  in  this  world  are  sure  to  be ; 
But  Tom,  he's  little  above  a  fool — 
So  John  and  Henry  must  go  to  school." 

^'  Now,  really,  wife,"  quoth  farmer  Brown, 
As  he  set  his  mug  of  cider  down ; 
"  Tom  does  more  work  in  a  day,  for  me. 
Than  both  of  his  brothers  do  in  three. 
Book  learnin'  will  never  plant  beans  or  corn, 
Nor  hoe  potatoes — sure  as  you're  born ; 
Nor  mend  a  rood  of  broken  fence  ; — 
For  my  part  give  me  common  sense." 


24  THE    YOUNG   DECLAIMEK. 

But  his  wife  the  roost  was  bound  to  rule. 
And  so  "  the  boys  "  were  sent  to  school ; 
While  Tom,  of  course,  was  left  behind. 
For  his  mother  said  he  had  no  mind. 

Five  years  at  school  the  students  spent. 

Then  each  one  into  business  went ; 

John  learned  to  play  the  flute  and  fiddle, 

And  parted  his  hair  (of  course)  in  the  middle. 

Though  his  brother  looked  rather  higher  than  he. 

And  hung  out  his  shingle — "  H.  Brown,  M.  D." 

Meanwhile,  at  home,  their  brother  Tom, 

Had  taken  a  "  notion  "  into  his  head  ; 

Though  he  said  not  a  word,  but  trimmed  his  trees, 

And  hoed  his  corn  and  sowed  his  peas  ; 

But  somehow,  either  "  by  hook  or  crook," 

He  managed  to  read  full  many  a  book. 

Well,  the  war  broke  out ;  and  "  Captain  Tom," 
To  battle  a  hundred  soldiers  led  ; 
And  when  the  rebel  flag  went  down 
Came  marching  home  as  "  General  Brown." 
But  he  went  to  work  on  the  farm  again. 
Planted  his  corn  and  sowed  his  grain, 
Repaired  the  house  and  broken  fence, 
And  people  said  he  had  "  common  sense." 

Now,  common  sense  was  rather  rare. 

And  the  State  House  needed  a  portion  there ; 


THE    YOUNG    DECLAIMER.  25 

So  our  "  family  dunce  "  moved  into  town, 
And  people  called  him  '•  Governor  Brown  ; " 
And  his  brothers,  that  went  to  the  city  school, 
Came  home  to  live  with  mother's  fool. 


Otir  Garret. 


Oh,  I  love  our  dim  old  garret. 
Love  to  hear  its  echoes  call. 

From  the  lonely  nooks  and  corners 
Where  the  shadows  darkly  fall. 

There  'tis  joyous  to  see  the  sunbeams 
Through  the  dusty  windows  pour, 

Lighting  up  the  tall  old  rafters. 
Falling  brightly  on  the  floor. 

Many  hours  I've  spent  up  garret, 
Reading  tales  and  legends  old, 

That  I  found  in  chests  and  boxes 
Filled  with  treasures  all  untold, — • 

Treasures  of  old-fashioned  clothing, 
That  were  worn  long  years  ago ; 

Papers,  books,  and  faded  pictures 
Of  the  times  of  long  ago. 


26  THE   TOUNG   DECLAIMER. 

Often  have  I  watched  the  spiders 
Spin  their  web  along  the  beam, 

Little  thinking  that  I  also 

Spun  the  thread  of  life's  short  dream  ;— 

Little  thinking  that  the  shadows, 
And  the  sunshine  on  the  floor, 

Might  be  likened  to  the  sorrows 
And  the  joys  for  me  in  store. 

It  is  well  for  us  the  future 

God  hath  hidden  from  our  view  , 

Let  us  trust  Him,  let  us  love  Him- 
God  is  wise,  and  good,  and  true 

And  I  like  to  sit  and  listen 

To  the  music  of  the  rain. 
As  it  falls  upon  the  shingles, 

As  it  patters  on  the  pane 

Oh,  I  love  our  dim  old  garret. 
And  the  memories  long  will  last 

Of  the  pleasant  hours  I've  spent  there, 
In  the  years  that  now  are  past. 

- — H»  Hose  Bond. 


THE    YOUNG   DECLAIMER.  27 


The  Better  for  it.    - 

If  men  cared  less  for  wealth  and  fame, 

And  less  for  battle-fields  and  glory  ; 
if  writ  in  human  hearts,  a  name 

Seemed  better  than  in  song  and  story ; 
K  men,  instead  of  nursing  pride, 

Would  learn  to  hate  it  and  abhor  it,— 
If  more  relied 
On  love  to  gilide. 
The  world  would  be  the  better  for  it. 

If  men  dealt  less  in  stocks  and  lands, 

And  more  in  bonds  and  deeds  fraternal. 
If  Love's  work  had  more  willing  hands, 

To  link  this  world  to  the  supernal ; 
If  men  stored  up  Love's  oil  and  wine. 
In  bruised  human  hearts  to  pour  it ; 
If  "  yours  "  and  "  mine," 
Would  once  combine, 
The  world  would  be  the  better  for  it. 


If  men  would  act  the  part  of  Life, 
And  fewer  spoil  it  in  rehearsal ; 

If  bigotry  would  sheath  its  knife 
Till  God  became  more  universal ; 

If  custom,  gray  with  ages  grown. 
Had  fewer  blind  men  to  adore  it, — 


28  THE    YOUNG   DECLAIMER. 

If  talent  shone 
In  truth  alone, 
The  world  would  be  the  better  for  it. 

If  men  were  wise  in  little  things, — 

Affecting  less  in  all  their  dealings  t, 
If  hearts  had  fewer  rusted  strings 
To  isolate  their  kindly  feelings ; 
If  men,  when  Wrong  beats  down  the  Right, 
Would  strike  together  and  restore  it, — 
If  Right  made  Might 
In  every  fight, 
The  world  would  be  the  better  for  it. 

— Merry's  Museum, 


A  Child's  Joy. 


What  joy  it  is,  from  day  to  day, 
To  skip  and  sing,  and  dance  and  plaj 
To  breathe  the  air,  to  feel  the  sun 
And  o'er  the  spangled  meadows  run. 

What  joy  to  move  my  limbs  about, 
To  whoop  and  hallo,  call  and  shout 
Amonr^  the  woods  and  feel  as  free 
As  any  bird  upon  a  tree. 


THE    YOUNG   DECL AIMER.  29 

What  joy,  when  hungry,  'tis  to  eat, 
What  pleasure  is  our  daily  meat ; 
How  sweet,  when  sleep  the  eyelids  close, 
To  sink  in  calm  and  soft  repose. 

What  joy  as  morn  begins  to  break. 
Refreshed  and  vigorous  to  wake — 
To  feel,  amid  the  dews  and  flowers, 
New  life  bestowed  on  all  my  powers. 

But  who  bestows  this  constant  joy 

On  every  little  girl  and  boy  ? 

'Tis  God,  our  Father,  bright  and  wise,     ^ 

Whose  goodness  every  joy  supplies. 

Then  let  us  love  and  praise  the  Lord, 
And  strive  to  know  his  holy  word ; 
To  do  no  wrong,  and  think  no  ill, 
And  evermore  perform  His  will. 


-♦-♦-•- 


The  Pilot. 


The  curling  waves  with  awful  roar 

A  little  boat  assailed, 
And  pallid  fear's  distracting  power 

O'er  all  on  board  prevailed, — ■ 


30  THE   YOUNG   DECL AIMER. 

Save  one,  the  Captain's  darling  child, 
Who  steadfast  viewed  the  storm. 

And,  fearless,  with  composure  smiled 
At  danger's  threatening  form. 

"  And  fear'st  thou  not  ?  "  a  seaman  cried, 
"  While  terrors  overwhelm  ?  " 

"  Why  should  I  fear  ?  "  the  child  replied, 
"  My  father's  at  the  helm." 

Thus  when  our  earthly  hopes  are  reft, 

Our  earthly  comforts  gone. 
We  still  have  one  sure  anchor  left, — 

God  helps,  and  He  alone. 

He  to  our  cries  will  lend  an  ear ; 

He'll  give  our  pangs  relief, — 
He'll  turn  to  smiles  each  twinkling  tear,— 

To  joy  each  torturing  grief. 

Turn,  turn  to  Him,  'mid  sorrows  wild, 

When  terrors  overwhelm. 
Remembering,  like  the  fearless  child. 

Our  Father's  at  the  helm. 


THE   YOUNG   DECLAIMER.  31 

My  First  Whistle. 

Of  all  the  toys  I  e'er  have  known, 

I  loved  that  whistle  best ; 
It  was  my  first,  it  was  my  own, 
And  I  was  doubly  blest. 

'Twas  Saturday,  and  afternoon, 

That  school-boys'  jubilee, 
When  the  young  heart  is  all  in  tune 

From  book  and  ferule  free. 

I  then  was  in  my  seventh  year ; 

The  birds  were  all  a  singing ; 
Above  a  brook  that  rippled  clear, 

A  willow  tree  was  swinging. 

My  brother  Ben  was  very  'cute ; 

He  climbed  that  willow  tree ; 
He  cut  a  branch,  and  I  was  mute, 

The  while,  with  ecstacy. 

With  pen-knife  he  did  cut  it  'round,    ; 

And  gave  the  bark  a  wring ; 
He  shaped  the  mouth,  and  tried  the  sound,-— 

It  was  a  glorious  thing ! 

I  blew  that  whistle,  full  of  joy — 

It  echoed  o'er  the  ground ; 
And  never,  since  that  simple  toy. 

Such  music  have  I  found. 


32  THE    YOUNG   DECLAIMER. 

I've  seen  blue  eyes  and  tasted  wines — 

With  many  toys  been  blest, 
But  backward  memory  still  inclines 

To  love  that  whistle  best. 

— Saunders. 


Sigms  of  the  Weather. 


The  hollow  winds  begin  to  blow, 
The  clouds  look  black,  the  glass  is  low ; 
The  soot  falls  down,  the  spaniels  sleep 
And  spiders  from  their  cob-webs  peep. 
Last  night  the  sun  went  pale  to  bed, 
The  moon  in  halos  hid  her  head ; 
Hark  !  how  the  chairs  and  tables  crack ! 
Old  Betty's  joints  are  on  the  rack : 
Her  corns  with  shooting  pains  torment  her. 
And  to  her  bed  untimely  send  her  ; 
Loud  quack  the  ducks,  the  sea-fowl  cry, 
The  distant  hills  are  looking  nigh. 
How  restless  are  the  snorting  swine ! 
The  busy  flies  disturb  the  kine ; 
Low  on  the  grass,  the  swallow  wings  ; 
The  cricket  too  how  sharp  she  sings  ! 
Puss,  on  the  hearth,  with  velvet  paws 
Sits  wiping  o'er  her  whiskered  jaws ; 
The  smoke  from  chimneys  right  ascends, 
Then  spreading  back  to  earth  it  bends ; 


THE    YOUNG    Dl!:CL AIMER.  33 

Through  the  clear  stream  the  fishes  rise 

And  nimbly  cat-ch  the  incautious  flies. 

The  glow-worms,  num'rous,  clear  and  bright, 

Illumined  the  dewy  hill  last  night  ] 

At  dusk  the  squalid  toad  was  seen 

Like  quadruped  stalk  o'er  the  green. 

The  whirling  wind  the  dust  obeys. 

And  in  the  rapid  eddy  plays, 

The  frog  has  changed  his  yellow  vest, 

And  in  a  russet  coat  is  dressed. 

Behold  the  rooks,  how  odd  their  flight  I 

They  imitate  the  gliding  kite ; 

In  fiery  red  the  Sun  doth  rise, 

She  wades  through  clouds  to  mount  the  skies. 

'Twill  surely  rain,  we  see  with  sorrow; 

No  working  in  the  fields  to-morrow  ! 

— Jennett. 


♦  ♦» 


It  Snows. 

It  snows !  it  snows  !  from  out  the  sky 
The  feathered  flakes,  how  fast  they  fly, 
Like  little  birds,  that  don't  know  why 
They're  on  the  chase  from  place  to  place, 
While  neither  can  the  other  trace. 
It  snows !  it  snows  !  a  merry  play 
Is  o'er  us  on  this  heavy  day. 


34  THE    YOUNG    RECLAIMER, 

As  dancers  in  an  airy  hall, 

That  hasn't  room  enough  to  hold  them  all. 

While  some  keep  up  and  others  fall, 

The  atoms  shift,  then,  thick  and  swift^ 

They  drive  along  to  form  the  drift 

That  weaving  up  so  dazzling  white^ 

Is  rising  like  a  wall  of  light* 

But  now  the  wind  2omes  whistling  loud^ 

Ta  snatch  and  waft  it  as  a  cloud ; 

Or  giant  phantom  in  a  shroud ; 

It  spreads  !  it  curls  !  it  mounts  and  whirls. 

At  length,  a  mighty  wing  unfurls  ; 

And  then,  away !  but  where  none  knows. 

Or  ever  wilL     It  snows  1  it  snows  I 


To-morrow  will  the  storm  be  done^ 

Then  out  ^dll  come  the  golden  sun. 

And  we  shall  see,  upon  the  run 

Before  his  beams,  in  sparkling  streams^ 

What  now  a  curtain  o'er  him  seems. 

And  thus,  with  life,  it  ever  goes ; 

'Tis  shade  and  shine  i     It  snows  !  it  snows  f 

"^Hannah  F.  GoiUdt 


THE    YOUNG    DECLAIM ER.  35 


"What  are  the  Wild  Waves  Saying P" 

"  What  are  the  wild  waves  saymg, 

Sailor,  to  thee  ?  " 
"  Oh,  their  voice  is  like  sweetest  music 

Singing  to  me. 
Now  it  swells  to  the  roar  of  tempest 

Making  my  heart  grow  strong, 
Now,  amid  its  soft  low  murmurs 
I  hear  the  mermaid's  song." 

"  What  are  the  wild  waves  saying 

Merchant,  to  thee  ?  " 
"  Oh,  they  speak  of  my  goodly  vessels 

Far  o'er  the  sea. 
Sometimes  they  mock  me  with  laughter 

When  I  sigh  o'er  my  sunken  gold ; 
Sometimes  they  bring  me  good  tidings 

From  the  shores  whence  their  waters  rolled.' 

"  What  are  the  wild  waves  saying 

Child  of  fashion,  to  thee  ?  " 
^'  Oh,  I  heed  not  their  ceaseless  dashing, 

They  never  speak  to  me. 
Or  if  they  could,  they  would  tell  me 

Naught  that  I  care  to  hear. 
For  sometimes  their  sound  at  midnight 
Fills  me  with  stFongest  fear." 


36  THE    YOUNG   DECL AIMER. 

"  What  are  the  wild  waves  saying 

Poet,  to  thee  ?  " 
*'  One  word  they  speak  to  me  ever, 

Eternity. 
Yet,  all  of  their  strange  sweet  music 

I  may  not  understand 
Till  I  read  life's  wondrous  secret, 
Afar  iu  the  heavenly  land." 

— H  Frances  Osborne, 


They  Say. 

"  They  say  " — Ah !  well,  suppose  they  do, 
But  can  they  prove  the  story  true  ? 
Suspicion  may  arise  from  naught 
But  malice,  envy,  want  of  thought ; 
Why  count  yourself  among  the  "  they  " 
Who  whisper  what  they  dare  not  say  ? 

"  They  say  " — but  why  the  tale  rehearse, 

And  help  to  make  the  matter  worse  ? 

No  good  can  possibly  accrue 

From  telling  what  may  be  untrue  ; 

And  is  it  not  a  nobler  plan 

To  speak  of  all  the  best  you  can  ? 


THE    YOUNG    DECLAIMER.  37 

"  They  say  " — Well,  if  it  should  be  so, 
Why  need  you  tell  the  tale  of  woe? 
Will  it  the  bitter  wrong  redress, 
Or  make  one  pang  of  sorrow  less  ? 
Will  it  the  erring  one  restore. 
Henceforth  to  go  and  sin  no  more  ? 

"  They  say  " — Oh  !  pause  and  look  within — 
See  how  thine  heart  inclines  to  sin ; 
Watch,  lest  in  dark  temptation's  hour, 
Thou,  too,  shouldst  sink  beneath  its  power. 
Pity  the  frail,  weep  o'er  the  fall. 
But  speak  of  good,  or  not  at  all. 


The  Youthful  Advocate. 


I  am  but  a  little  teetotal  man. 

And  cannot  do  much,  but  I  do  what  I  can 

To  promote  the  temperance  cause. 
I  never  drink  ale,  or  any  such  thing 
As  brandy  or  rum,  wine,  whisky,  or  sling — 

Man's  curse,  and  the  cause  of  his  woes. 

I  drink  cold  water,  so  clear  and  so  sweet : 

It  quenches  my  thirst,  gives  health  to  my  cheek, 

And  brings  neither  sorrows  nor  woes. 
It  comes  from  above,  so  bright  and  so  free ; 
In  dewdrops, it  shines  like  pearls  from  the  sea; 

And  in  streams  of  abundance  it  flows. 


38  THE    YOUNG    DECLAIMi:^. 

Enriching  the  soil,  it  supplies  us  with  bread, 
Gives  life  to  the  flowers  in  the  green,  grassy  mead, 

And  meets  us  where'er  we  may  rove. 
The  beautiful  birds,  in  the  midst  of  their  song, 
Stop  and  drink  from  the  brook,  as  it  murmurs  along 

Through  brake   and    through   woodland 
and  grove. 

Would  you  sing,  like  the  birds,  with  sweetness  and 

power, 
Or,  blooming  in  beauty,  outrival  the  flower, 

AVith  cheeks  fresh  and  healthy  as  mine  ? 
Make  water  your  drink,  and  unite  heart  and  hand 
To  rescue  and  save  every  child  in  the  land, 

And  the  pledge  of  true  temperance  sign. 


Boil  it  Down. 

Whatever  you  have  to  say,  my  friend, 
Whether  witty,  or  grave,  or  gay. 

Condense  as  much  as  ever  you  can. 
And  say  in  the  readiest  way  ; 

And  whether  you  write  of  rural  affairs, 
Or  particular  things  in  town. 

Just  take  a  word  of  friendly  advice- 
Boil  it  down. 


THE    YOUNG    DECLAIMER.  S9 

For  if  you  go  spluttering  over  a  page 

When  a  couple  of  lines  would  do, 
Your  butter  is  spread  so  much,  you  see, 

That  the  bread  looks  plainly  through ; 
So  when  you  have  a  story  to  tell. 

And  would  like  a  little  renown, 
To  make  quite  sure  of  your  wish,  my  friend. 

Boil  it  down- 
When  writing  an  article  for  the  press, 

Whether  prose  or  verse,  just  try 
To  utter  your  thoughts  in  the  fewest  words, 

And  let  them  be  crisp  and  dry  ; 
And  when  it  is  finished,  and  you  suppose 

It  is  done  exactly  brown. 
Just  look  it  over  again,  and  then 

Boil  it  down. 

For  editors  do  not  like  to  print 

An  article  lazily  long, 
And  the  busy  reader  does  not  care 

For  a  couple  of  yards  of  song ; 
So  gather  your  wits  in  the  smallest  space, 

If  you'd  win  the  author's  crown. 
And  every  time  you  write,  my  friend, 

Boil  it  down. 


40  THE    YOUNG    BECLAIMEK. 


*'  Too  Deep  for  That.'* 

"  Yes,"  said  Farmer  Brown^ 
Bringing  his  hard  fist  down 

On  the  old  oak  table, — 
"  They  say  that  men  can  talk 
From  Paris  to  New  York, 

Through  a  sunken  cable  I 

"  'Tis  perfectly  absurd, 
For  to  hear  a  single  word^ 

No  man  is  able ; 
And  it's  clear  enough  to  me 
That  this  wide-spread  mystery 

Is  a  foolish  fable. 

"  The  news  we  get  from  Rome 
Is  all  made  up  at  home, 

*Tis  my  conviction  ; 
And  that,  you  see,  will  account 
For  the  terrible  amount 

Of  contradiction. 

"  Yes,"  said  Farmer  Brown, 
Bringing  his  hard  fist  down 

On  the  old  oak  table,— 
"  My  wife  and  I  have  tried 
The  experiment ;  we  tied 

A  good  stout  bit  of  cable 


THE    YOUNG    DECL AIMER.  41 

To  the  fence,  just  over  there, 
And  the  rocker  of  this  chair; 

And  we  couldn't  do  it. 
Though  we  screamed  ourselves  as  hoarse 
As  tree-toads  ;  but  of  course 

Not  one  word  went  through  it ! 

"  Don't  talk  to  me,  I  pray,  • 
Of  fresh  news  every  day, 

Through  sunken  cables: 
Sea-yarns  are  always  tough, 
And  I  have  heard  enough 

Of  such  old  fables  !  " 

— Hearth  and  Home, 

•-♦-• 


The  Bobin's  Rehearsal. 

Out  for  a  morning  rehearsal, 

Robin,  and  Squirrel,  and  bee ; 
They  have  an  orchestral  meeting, 

Up  in  that  sycamore  tree. 
Robin  has  plumes  on  her  bonnet, 

Squirrel  is  dressed  in  his  furs — 
Bee  wears  a  black  and  gold  velvet, 

Finest  of  laces  are  hers. 

"  Now  for  our  practice,"  said  Robin, 
"  You  can  sing  air,  Mistress  Bee, 


42  THE    YOUMG    DECLAIMER. 

You  take  the  base,  Mr.  Squirrel, 
That  will  leave  alto  for  me." 

Up  rose  their  voices  together, 

Squirrel  song,  bee  song,  and  bird  ; 

It  was  the  funniest  medley 
You  in  your  life  ever  heard. 

But  among  happiest  singers 

Sometimes  dissension  will  come — 
"  Stop,  Mistress  Bee,"  cried  the  squirrel, 

"  You  can  do  nothing  but  hum." 
"  Pray,  what  can  you  do  but  chatter  ?  " 

Madam  retorted,  and  though 
She  to  \iQV  friends  is  all  sweetness, 

She  is  a  dangerous /oc. 

Fiercely  the  quarrel  was  raging, 

Robin  said,  "  Here  let  it  end ; 
Neither  shall  sing  at  my  concert, 

Neither  one  now  is  my  friend." 
So  in  disgrace  they  were  banished  ; 

Soon  other  birds  came,  and  they. 
Being  invited  by  Robin, 

Joined  in  a  sweet  matinee. 

Little  ones,  here  is  a  lesson, 
Whether  at  work  or  at  play, 

Studying,  talking,  or  singing. 
Never  to  anger  give  way. 

Whoso  controlleth  his  spirit 


THE    YOUNG    DECLAIMEK.  43 

Greater  than  monarch  is  he ; 

Better  than  conquering  chieftain, 

Richer  his  guerdon  shall  l)e. 


ITairio  Unkiio"wx.. ' 


In  a  southern  land. — by  the  river  side, 
Where  the  cr^^stal  waters  gently  glide,  — 
In  a  sunken  grave,  with  thick  grass  o'ergrown. 
Sleeps  "  A  federal  soldier — name  unknown." 

There's  a  narrow  slab  at  the  soldier's  head, 
Which  the  rain  has  washed  with  its  pearly  thread, 
Till  we  scarce  can  read,  on  the  head-board  lone. 
This:  "A  fed jral  soldier — name  unknown," 

He  had  fought  all  day,  ere  he  bravely  fell, 
'Neath  the  dear  old  Hag  that  he  loved  so  well, 
Till  the  stars  of  eve  in  sweet  pity  shone 
On  "  A  federal  soldier — name  unknown." 

Then  a  stranger  had  scooped  a  shallow  grave, 
'Neath  the  dreamy  light  which  the  moonbeams  gave; 
And  laid  him  down — with  a  board  for  a  stone. 
Marked — "  A  federal  soldier — name  unknown." 

There  are  anxious  hearts  in  a  northern  home 
As  they  wait  for  an  absent  one  to  come ; 
Ah !  they  do  not  know  that  in  death,  alone. 
Lies  "  A  federal  soldier — name  unknown." 


44  THE    YOUNG    DECLAIMEI?. 

There  are  loving  ones  who  will  watch  and  wait 
For  his  welcome  step  at  the  garden  gate ; 
Yet  their  yearning  arms  will  no  more  be  thrown 
'Round  "  A  federal  soldier — ^name  unknown." 

May  God  soothe  their  hearts  when  the  war  is  o'er 
And  the  father  and  husband  come  home  no  more. 
How  vain  is  the  wife's  and  the  mother's  moan 
For  "  A  federal  soldier — name  unknown." 

Yet  the  time  will  come,  which  shall  re-unite 
Those  who  pass  from  earth  to  the  realm  of  light ; 
May  the  loved  ones  meet, — at  the  heav'nly  throne, — 
With  "  A  federal  soldier — name  unknown  ! " 

—  W.  Dexter  Smith.  Jr. 


•  ♦♦ 


Angrry  Words. 

Angry  words  are  lightly  spoken, 

In  a  rash  and  thoughtless  hour ; 
Brightest  links  of  life  are  broken 

By  their  deep,  insidious  power. 
Hearts  inspired  by  warmest  feeling, 

Ne'er  before  by  anger  stirred, 
Oft  are  rent  past  human  healing 

By  a  single  angry  word. 

Poison  drops  of  care  and  sorrow, 

Bitter  poison  drops  are  they, 
Weaving  for  the  coming  morrow 


THE    YOUNG    DECLAIMER.  45 

Saddest  memories  of  to-day. 
Angry  words,  O  let  them  never 

From  the  tongue  unbridled  slip ; 
May  the  heart's  best  impulse  ever 

Check  them  e'er  they  soil  the  lip. 

Love  is  much  too  pure  and  holy, 

Friendship  is  too  sacred  far 
For  a  moment's  reckless  folly, 

Thus  to  desolate  and  mar. 
Angry  words  are  lightly  spoken, 

Bitterest  thoughts  are  rashly  stirred, 
Brightest  links  in  life  are  broken 

By  a  single  angry  word. 


Troublesome  Neigrhbors. 


First,  Mrs.  McGinty  came  over  to  know 
If  a  pailful  of  coal  she  could  borrow. 

Her  husband  had  ordered  a  ton  from  the  yard 
She'd  return  it  by  to-morrow. 

Then  came  Mrs.  Martin,  from  over  the  way, 
Who  said  she  stepped  over  to  see 

If  I  would  oblige  her,  till  that  afternoon, 
With  only  a  drawing  of  tea. 


46  THE    YOUNG    DECLAIMER. 

Next  came  Mrs.  Johnson,  who'd  like  very  much 

I'd  lend  her,  an  hour  or  two, 
A  couple  of  irons,  as  she  had  on  hand 

Some  work  she  hurried  to  do. 

Then  came  Mrs.  Thompson,  a  neighbor  next  door- 
A  troublesome,  cranky  old  dame, — 

Who  wanted  to  borrow,  for  that  afternoon, 
The  loan  of  my  large  quilting  frame. 

Scarce  had  she  gone  when  old  AYidow  Jones, 

Who  said  she  was  going  to  scrub. 
Came  into  the  room  and  wanted  to  know 

If  I'd  lend  her  the  use  of  my  tub. 

Then  Mrs.  Wilson  came  over  in  haste, — • 

In  her  hands  a  pitcher  she  bore ; 
Her  molasses  fell  short,  she  hadn't  enough, 

And  would  like  to  borrow  some  more. 

Next  came  Mrs.  Hernando,  who  wanted  to  know 
If  the  late  paper  I  had  read  through. 

And  would  feel  much  obliged  to  me  if  I  would 
But  loan  it  an  hour  or  two. 

And  even  at  nlgh^,  when  going  to  bed. 
There  came  to  my  door  Mrs.  Doyle, 

Who  had  to  sit  up, — her  daughter  was  sick, — 
And  wanted  some  kerosene  oil. 


THE    YOUNG    D EC L AIMER.  17 

With  patience  exhausted,  I'm  forced  to  declare 
That  in  future  I'll  lessen  my  labors, 

By  refusing  to  lend  everything  I  possess 
To  improvident,  troublesome  neighbors. 

—  Waverli/  Magazine. 


When  Will  the  End  Come? 

When  legislators  keep  the  law, 

When  banks  dispense  with  doors  and  locks, 
When  berries,  whortle,  rasp,  and  straw. 

Grow  bigger  downward  through  the  box  ; 

When  he  that  selleth  house  or  land 
Shows  leak  in  roof  or  flaw  in  right ; 

When  haberdashers  choose  the  stand 
Whose  window  has  the  broadest  light ; 

When  preachers  tell  us  all  they  think, 
And  party  leaders  all  they  mean ; 

When  what  we  pay  for, — what  we  drink, 
From  real  grape  and  coffee-bean ; 

When  lawyers  take  what  they  would  give, 
And  doctors  give  what  they  would  take  ; 

When  city  fathers  eat  to  live. 

Save  when  thev  fast  for  conscience  sake : 


48  THE    YOUNG    DECLAIMER. 

When  one  that  hath  a  horse  on  sale 
Shall  bring  his  merit  to  the  proof, 

Without  a  lie  for  every  nail 

That  holds  the  iron  on  the  hoof; 

When  in  the  usual  place  for  rips 

Our  gloves  are  stitched  with  special  care, 

And  guarded  well  the  whalebone  tips, 
Where  first  umbrellas  need  repair ; 

When  Cuba's  weeds  have  quite  forgot 
The  power  of  suction  to  resist, 

And  claret  bottles  harbor  not 

Such  dimples  as  would  hold  your  fist ; 

When  publishers  no  longer  steal. 

And  pay  for  what  they  stole  before ; 

When  the  first  locomotive  wheel 

Rolls  through  the  Hoosac  tunnel's  bore ; 

Till  then  let  Gumming  blaze  away, 
And  Miller's  saints  blow  up  the  globe : 

But  when  you  see  that  blessed  day, 
Then  order  your  ascension  robe. 

—  Oliver  Wendell  Holmes. 


THK    YOUNG    DECLAIMEK,  49 

Suppose  P 

Suppose,  my  little  lady, 

Your  doll  should  break  her  head, 
Could  you  make  it  whole  by  crying 

Till  your  eyes  and  nose  are  red  ? 
And  wouldn't  it  be  pleasanter 

To  treat  it  as  a  joke ; 
And  say  you're  glad  "  'Twas  dolly's. 

And  not  your  head  that  broke  ?  " 

Suppose  you're  dressed  for  walking, 

And  the  rain  comes  pouring  down, 
Will  it  clear  off  any  sooner 

Because  you  scold  and  frown? 
And  wouldn't  it  be  nicer 

For  you  to  smile  than  pout, 
And  so  make  sunshine  in  the  house 

When  there  is  none  without? 

Suppose  your  task,  my  little  man, 

Is  very  hard  to  get. 
Will  it  make  it  any  easier 

For  you  to  sit  and  fret  ? 
And  wouldn't  it  be  wiser, 

Than  waiting  like  a  dunce, 
To  go  to  work  in  earnest 

And  learn  the  thing  at  once  ? 


tiO  THE    YOUNG    DECLAIMED. 

Suppose  that  some  boys  have  a  horse. 

And  some  a  coach  aiid  pair, 
Will  it  tire  you  less  while  walking 

To  say,  "  It  isn't  fair  ?  " 
And  wouldn't  it  be  nobler 

To  keep  your  temper  sweety 
And  in  your  heart  be  thankful 

You  can  walk  upon  your  feet  ? 

And  suppose  the  world  don't  please  yo». 

Nor  the  way  some  people  do, 
Do  you  think  the  whole  creation 

Will  be  altered  just  for  you? 
And  isn't  it,  my  boy  or  girl. 

The  wisest,  bravest  plan. 
Whatever  comes,  or  doesn't  comey 

To  do  the  best  you  can  ? 

— Phoebe  €are^ 


AU^s  Well  that  Ends  WelL. 

A  friend  of  mine  was  married  to  a  scold, 
To  me  he  came,  and  all  his  troubles  told. 
Said  he,  "  She's  like  a  woman  raving  mad^* 
"  Alas !  my  friend,"  said  I,  "  that's  very  bad."" 
"  No,  not  so  bad,"  said  he  ;  "  for  with  her,  true,. 
I  had  both  house,  and  land,  and  money,  too-'*" 


THE    YOUNG    UECLAIMER.  51 

"  That  was  well,"  said  I. 

"  No,  not  so  well,"  said  he  ; 
"  For  I  and  her  own  brother 
Went  to  law  with  one  another ; 
I  was  cast,  the  suit  was  lost, 
And  every  penny  went  to  pay  the  cost.'* 

"  That  was  bad,"  said  I. 

"  No,  not  so  bad,"  said  he ; 
"  For  we  agreed  that  he  the  house  should  keep, 
And  give  to  me  fourscore  of  Yorkshire  sheep  ; 
All  fat,  and  fair,  and  fine,  they  were  to  be." 
"  Well,  then,"  said  I,  "  sure  that  was  well  for  thee." 

"  No,  not  so  well,"  said  he  ; 

"  For  when  the  sheep  I  got, 
They  every  one  died  with  the  rot."  ** 

"  That  was  bad,"  said  I. 

"  No,  not  so  bad,"  said  he  ; 
"  For  I  had  thought  to  scrape  the  fat, 
And  keep  it  in  an  open  vat, 
Then  into  tallow  melt  for  winter  store." 
"  Why,  then,"  said  I,  "  that's  better  than  before." 

"  No,  not  so  well,"  said  he ; 
"  For  having  got  a  clumsy  fellow 
To  scrape  the  fat  and  make  the  tallow, 
Into  the  melting  fat  the  fire  catches, 
And  like  brimstone  matches, 
Burned  my  house  to  ashes." 

"  That  was  bad,"  said  I. 


52  THE    YOUNG    DECLAIMER. 

"  No,  not  so  bad,"  said  he ; 
"  For  what  is  best, 
My  scolding  wife  is  gone  among  the  rest.* 


Kindly  Words. 


As  th3  dew  unto  the  floweret, 
Kindly  words  and  kindly  deed 

Come  unto  earth' :  wandermg  children, 
To  supply  their  spirit's  need, 

Kindly  words  make  all  the  richer. 
Both  the  giver  and  the  given. 

Ever  wake  life's  sweetest  echoes, 
Making  earth  a  second  heaven. 

Speak  them  often,  speak  them  often. 
Do  not  grudge  them,  they  may  be 

Life  and  anchor,  hope,  salvation. 
In  some  future  day  to  thee. 

We  are  sailing  down  life's  ocean  i 
Oftentimes  the  billows  roar ; 

Hear  ye  not  the  waves'  commotion, 
Steer  ye  for  the  heavenly  shore. 

Gaining  glimpses  of  land  immortal 
In  eternal  evermore. 


THE    YOUNG   DECLAIMER. 

Faint  not,  pale  not,  nor  grow  weary, 
But  push  onward  through  the  strife, 

Sowing  goodly  seeds  forever, 
To  spring  up  to  perfect  life. 

Kindly  words  are  full  of  glory, 

Glory  given  from  above  ; 
Blooming  maid  and  patriarch  hoary 

Need  those  messengers  of  love. 

— Emma  Fassmore, 


Some  One's  Servant  GUrl. 

She  stood  there  leaning  wearily 

Against  the  window  frame. 
Her  face  was  patient,  sad  and  sweet. 

Her  garments  coarse  and  plain  ; 
"  Who  is  she,  pray  ?  "  I  asked  a  friend, 

The  red  lips  gave  a  curl — 
"  Really !  I  do  not  know  her  name, 

She*s  some  one's  servant  girl." 

Again  I  saw  her  on  the  street 
With  burden  trudge  along  ; 

Her  face  was  sweet  and  patient  still, 
Amid  the  jostling  throng ; 

Slowly,  but  cheerfully  she  moved. 
Guarding,  with  watchful  care. 


54  THE    YOUNG    DECLAIMER. 

A  market  basket  much  too  lar<ye 
For  her  slight  hands  to  bear. 

A  man,  I'd  thought  a  gentleman, 

Went  pushing  rudely  by, 
Sweeping  the  basket  from  her  hands, 

But  turning  not  his  eye  ; 
For  there  was  no  necessity, 

Amid  that  busy  whirl, 
For  him  to  be  a  gentleman 

To  "  some  one's  servant  girL" 

Ah !  well  it  is  that  God  above 

Looks  in  upon  the  heart. 
And  never  judges  any  one 

By  just  the  outer  part. 
For  if  the  soul  be  pure  and  good, 

-He  will  not  mind  the  rest, 
Nor  question  what  the  garments  were 

In  which  the  form  was  dressed. 

And  many  a  man  and  woman  fair, — 

By  fortune  reared  and  fed, 
Who  will  not  mingle  here  below. 

With  those  who  earn  their  bread. 
When  they  have  passed  away  fi-om  life, 

Beyond  the  gates  of  pearl. 
Will  meet  before  their  Father's  throne 

With  many  a  servant  girl. 


THE    YOUNG    D EC L AIMER,  ^  55 


Kind- Hearted  George. 

A  poor  old  man  sat  clown  to  eat 

A  little  bit  of  bread  and  meat 

As  Georgy  Wright  came  up  the  street. 

His  clothes  were  torn,  his  head  was  bare, 
The  wind  it  blew  his  long  white  hair, 
As  cold  and  friendless  he  sat  there. 

*'  Poor  man,"  said  Georgy  with  a  sigh, 
*'  I  feel  that  I  could  almost  cry, 
You  look  so  thin  ;  I  fear  you'll  die," 

The  old  man  raised  his  head  to  hear 
Kind  words  that  thrilled  his  heart  and  ear, 
But  down  his  cheek  there  rolled  a  tear. 

*'  Alas ! "  he  said,  "  If  I  could  see 
The  gentle  boy  that  speaks  to  me, 
How  very  happy  I  should  be  ! 

"  For  dark  to  me  the  world  has  been, 

And  I  have  never,  never  seen 

A  tree,  or  flower,  or  meadow  green. 

"  How  often  have  I  wished  to  view 
My  mother's  face ;  the  skies  of  blue ; 
And  now  I  long  to  look  on  you." 


56  THE    YOUNG    DECL AIMER. 

"  Poor  man,"  said  Georgy  Wright,  "don't  cry. 
But  pray  to  God  that  when  you  die. 
Your  soul  may  go  to  Him  on  high. 

"  There  you  will  see,  without  a  tear. 
Far  better  things  than  we  do  here, 
And,  oh  I  perhaps  your  mother  dear." 

The  winning  words  of  this  dear  child 
Such  comfort  gave,  the  old  man  smiled 
And  felt  his  heavy  grief  beguiled. 


What  the  Sparrow  Chirpsu. 

I  am  only  a  little  sparrow, 

A  bird  of  low  degree  ; 
My  life  is  of  little  value, 

But  the  dear  Lord  careth  for  me. 

He  gave  me  a  coat  of  feathers, 
►     It  is  very  plain,  I  know, 
With  never  a  speck  of  crimson. 
For  it  was  not  made  for  show. 

But  it  keeps  me  warm  in  Winter, 
And  it  shields  me  from  the  rain  : 

Were  it  bordered  with  gold  or  purple^ 
Perhaps  it  would  make  me  vain. 


THE    YOUNG    DECLAIMER.  57 

And  now  that  the  Spiing-time  cometh, 

I  will  build  me  a  little  nest, 
With  many  a  chirp  of  pleasure, 

In  the  spot  I  like  the  best. 

I  have  no  barn  or  storehouse, 

I  neither  sow  nor  reap  ; 
God  gives  me  a  sparrow's  portion, 

But  never  a  seed  to  keep. 

If  my  meal  is  sometimes  scanty, 

Close  picking  makes  it  sweet ; 
I  have  always  enough  to  feed  me. 

And  "  life  is  more  than  meat." 

I  know  tJiere  are  many  sparrows  ; 

All  over  the  world  we  are  found, 
But  our  heavenly  Father  knoweth 

When  one  of  us  falls  to  the  ground. 

Though  small  we  are  never  forgotten ; 

Though  weak,  we  are  never  afraid ; 
For  we  know  that  the  dear  Lord  keepeth 

The  life  of  the  creatures  He  made. 

I  fly  through  the  thickest  forest, 

I  light  on  many  a  spray ; 
I  have  no  chart  nor  compass, 

But  I  never  lose  my  way. 


58  THE    YOUNG    DECLAIMER. 

And  I  fold  my  wings  at  twilight, 
Wherever  I  happen  to  be  ; 

For  the  Father  is  always  watching, 
And  no  harm  will  come  to  me. 

I  am  only  a  little  sparrow, 
A  bird  of  low  degree ; 
^  But  I  know  the  Father  loves  me,— 
Have  you  less  faith  than  me  ? 


Smile  "Whene'er  You  Can. 

When  things  don't  go  to  suit  you, 

And  the  world  seems  up-side  down, 
Don't  waste  your  time  in  fretting. 

But  drive  away  that  frown"; 
Since  life  is  oft  perplexing, 

It  is  the  wisest  plan 

To  bear  all  trials  bravely, 
And  smile  whene'er  you  can  ! 

Why  should  you' dread  to-morrow 

And  thus  spoil  your  to-day  ? 
For  when  you  borrow  trouble 

You  always  have  to  pay. 
It  is  a  good  old  maxim. 

Which  should  be  often  preached, — 
DonH  cross  the  bridge  before  you 

Until  the  bridge  is  reached  ! 


THE    YOUNG    DECLAIMEI?.  59 

You  might  be  spared  much  sighing, 

If  you  would  keep  in  mind 
The  thought,  that  good  and  evil 

Are  always  here  combined. 
There  must  be  something  wanting 

And  tho'  you  roil  in  wealth, 
You  may  miss  from  your  casket, 

The  precious  jewel — Health  ! 

And  tho'  you're  strong  and  sturdy 

You  may  have  an  empty  purse  ;         '  - 
(And  earth  has  many  trials 

Which  I  consider  worse  !) 
But  whether  joy  or  sorrow 

Fill  up  your  mortal  span, 
'T  will  make  your  pathway  brighter 

To  smile  whene'er  you  can. 

— Kite  Cameron. 


liittle  Jolin  &ay. 

"  No  one  will  see  me  !  "  said  little  John  Gay  ; 
For  his  father  and  mother  were  both  gone  away, 

And  he  was  at  home  all  alone : 
"  No  one  will  see  me  ! "  so  he  climbed  on  a  chair, 
And  peeped  in  the  pantry  to  spy  what  was  there ; 

Which  you  know  he  should  not  have  done. 


60  THE   YOUNG   DECL AIMER. 

There  stood  in  the  pantry,  so  sweet  and  so  nice, 
A  plate  of  plum-cake  in  full  many  a  slice, 

And  apples  so  ripe  and  so  fine  ; 
"Now,  no  one  will  see  me  !  '*  said  John  to  himself 
As  he  stretched  out  his  arm  to  reach  on  the  shelf, 

"  This  apple,  at  least,  shall  be  mine !  " 

John  paused,  and  put  back  the  nice  apple  so  red ; 
For  he  thought  of  the  words  his  kind  mother  had 
said. 
When  she  left  all  these  things  in  his  care ; 
"  But  no  one  will  see  me ! "  thought  he,  "  is  not 

true; 
For  I've  read  that  God  sees  us  in  all  that  we  do. 
And  is  with  us  wherever  we  are." 

Well  done !     Your  kind  father  and  mother  obey ; 
Try  ever  to  please  them,  and  mind  what  they  say, 

Even  when  they  are  absent  from  you ; 
And  never  forget,  that  though  no  one  be  nigh. 
You  cannot  be  hid  from  the  glance  of  God's  eye, — 

For  He  notices  all  that  you  do. 


Deeds  of  Kindness. 


Suppose  the  little  cowslip 
Should  hang  its  golden  cup. 

And  say,  "  I'm  such  a  tiny  flower 
I'd  better  not  grow  up." 


THE    YOUNG    DECLAIMER.  61 

How  many  a  weary  traveler 

Would  miss  its  fragrant  smell ! 
How  many  a  little  child  would  grieve 

To  lose  it  from  the  dell ! 

Suppose  the  glistening  dewdrop 

Upon  the  grass  should  say, 
"  What  can  a  little  dewdrop  do  ? 

I'd  better  roll  away." 

The  blade  on  which  it  rested, 

Before  the  day  was  done, 
Without  a  drop  to  moisten  it. 

Would  wither  in  the  sun. 

Suppose  the  little  breezes, 

Upon  a  summer's  day. 
Should  think  themselves  too  small  to  cool 

The  traveler  on  his  way.  * 

Who  would  not  miss  the  smallest 

And  softest  ones  that  blow, 
And  think  they  made  a  great  mistake 

If  they  were  talking  so  ? 

How  many  deeds  of  kindness 

A  little  child  may  do, 
Although  it  has  so  little  strength, 

And  little  wisdom  too. 


62  THE    YOUNG    DECL AIMER. 

It  wants  a  loving  spirit, 

Much  more  than  strength,  to  prove 
How  many  things  a  child  may  do 

For  others  by  his  love. 


The  Bain. 


Millions  of  tiny  rain  drops 

Are  falling  all  around 
They're  dancing  on  the  housetops, 

They're  hiding  in  the  ground. 
They  are  fairy-like  musicians, 

With  anything  for  keys. 
Beating  time  upon  the  windows — 

Keeping  time  upon  the  trees. 

A  light  and  airy  treble 

'Jhey  play  upon  the  stream. 
And  the  melody  enchants  us, 

Like  the  music  of  a  dream. 
A  deeper  bass  is  sounding 

When  they're  dropping  into  caves. 
With  a  tenor  for  the  zephyrs. 

And  an  alto  from  the  waves. 

Oh,  'tis  a  storm  of  music. 
And  Robins  don't  intrude 

If,  when  the  rain  is  weary. 
They  drop  an  interlude. 


THE    YOUNG    DECLAIMEK.  63 

It  seems  as  if  the  warbling 

Of  the  birds  in  all  the  bowers, 
Had  been  gathered  into  rain  drops 

And  was  coming  down  in  showers. 


The  Life  Clock. 


There  is  a  little  mystic  clock, 

No  human  eye  has  seen, — 
That  beateth  on— that  beateth  on 

From  morning  until  e'en  ; 
And  when  the  soul  is  wrapped  in  rloep. 

And  heareth  not  a  sound 
It  ticks  and  ticks  the  livelong  night, 

And  never  runneth  down. 

O,  wondrous  is  the  work  of  art. 

Which  knells  the  passing  hour, 
But  ne'er  formed,  nor  mind  conceived 

The  life-clock's  magic  power. 
Nor  set  in  gold,  nor  decked  with  gems, 

By  pride  and  wealth  possessed ; 
But  rich  or  poor,  or  high  or  low, 

Each  bears  it  in  his  breast. 

When  life's  deep  stream,  'mid  beds  of  flowers 

All  still  and  softly  glides, 
Like  a  wavelet's  step,  with  a  gentle  beat, 

It  warns  of  passing  tides. 


64  THE    YOUNG    DECLAIMER. 

When  passion  nerves  the  warrior's  arm 

For  deeds  of  hate  and  wrong, 
Though  heeded  not  the  fearful  sound, 

The  knell  is  deep  and  strong. 

When  eyes  to  eyes  are  gazing  soft, 

And  tender  words  are  spoken. 
Then  fast  and  wild  it  rattles  on, 

As  if  with  love  't  were  broken. 
Such  is  the  clock  that  measures  life, 

Of  flesh  and  spirit  blended ; 
And  thus  't  will  run  within  the  breast. 

Till  that  strange  life  is  ended. 

From  the  German. 


Think  Before  You  Speak. 


A  tale  I  will  tell  of  a  priest  and  his  mare 

As  they  merrily  trotted  along  to  the  fair. 

Of  a  creature  mo^-e  docile  you  never  have  heard  ; 

In  the  height  of  her  speed  she  would   stop  at   a 

word ; 
And  again  with  a  word,  when  the  rider  said  "  Hey," 
She  would  put  forth  her  mettle,  and  gallop  away. 


THE    YOUNG    D  EC L AIMER.  65 

As  along  a  smooth  lane  he  quietly  rode, 

While  the  sun  of  September  all  brilliantly  glowed, 

The  good  man  discovered,  with  eyes  of  desire, 

A  mulberry  tree  in  a  hedge  of  wild-brier. 

High  upon  the  boughs  hung  th    bea  tiful  fruit ; 

Its  large,  glossy  charms  might  have  tempted  a  brute* 


The  preacher  was  hungry,  and  thirgty  to  boot ; 
He  dreaded  the  thorns,  but  he  longed  for  the  fruit. 
With  a  word  he  arrested  the  courser^  keen  speed, 
Then  stood  up  erect  on  the  back  of  his  steed. 
On  the  saddle  he  stood,  while   the  creature  kv    t 

still. 
And  he  gathered  the  fruit  till  he'd  eaten  his  fill. 

*'  Sure,  never,"  said  he,  "  was  a  creature  so  rare ! 
How  docile,  how  true  is  this  excellent  mare  ! 
See,  here,  I  now  stand,"  and  he  gazed  all  around, 
*'  As  safe  and  as  steady  as  if  on  the  ground ; 
And  yet  how  she'd  fly,  if  some  fellow  this  way. 
Not  dreaming  of   mischief,    should  chance  to  say 
^Hey.'" 

He  stood  with  his  head  in  the  mulberry  tree  ; 
And  he  spoke  out  -aloud  in  the  height  of  his  glee  ; 
At  the  sound  of  his  "  Hey,"  the  mare  made  a  push, 
And  down  went  the  priest  in  the  uense  brier-bush. 
He  remembered  too  late,  on  his  sharp,  thorny  bed, 
Much  well  may  be   thought,  that  should  never  be 
said. 


66  THE   YOUMG   1>E€LAIME1U 


All  is  Action^  All  is  Motioix. 

All  is  action,  all  is  motion, 

In  this  mighty  world   of  ours  ; 

Like  the  current  of  the  ocean, 
Man  is  urged  by  unseen  powers  I 

Steadily,  but  strongly  moving, 

Life  is  onward  evermore, 
Still  the  present  age  improving 

On  the  age  that  went  before. 

Duty  points,  with  outstretched  fingers> 
Every  soul  to  actions  high ; 

Woe  betide  the  soul  that  lingers  ! — 
Onward  !  onward  !  is  the  cry. 

Though  man's  foes  may  seem  victorious 
War  may  waste  and  femine  blight. 

Still  from  out  the  conflict  glorious 
Mind  comes  forth  with  added  light  I 

O'er  the  darkest  night  of  sorrow. 
From  the  deadliest  field  of  strife,. 

Dawns  a  clearer,  brighter  morrow, 
Springs  a  truer,  nobler  life. 

Onward,  onward,  onward  ever  ! 

Human  progress  none  may  stay  ; 
All  who  make  the  vain  endeavor. 

Shall  like  chaff  be  swept  away. 


THE    YOUNG    DECLAIMER.  67 


Yankee  Doodle  Junior. 

Once  on  a  time  old  Johnny  Bull 

Flew  in  a  raging  fury, 
And  said  that  Jonathan  should  have 

No  trials,  sir,  by  jury  ; 
That  no  election  should  be  held, 

Across  the  briny  waters  ; 
"  And  now,"  said  he,  "  I'll  tax  the  tea 

Of  all  his  sons  and  daughters." 

Then  down  he  sat  in  burly  state, 

And  blustered  like  a  grandee. 
And  in  derision  made  a  tune 

Called  "  Yankee  Doodle  Dandy." 
"Yankee  Doodle" — these  are  facts— 

"  Yankee  Doodle  Dandy ; 
My  son  of  wax,  your  tea  I'll  tax — 

Yankee  Doodle  Dandy." 

John  sent  the  tea  from  o'er  the  sea 

With  heavy  duties  rated  ; 
But  whether  hyson  or  bohea, 

I  never  heard  it  stated. 
Then  Jonathan  to  pout  began — 

He  laid  a  strong  embargo — 
"  I'll  drink  no  tea,  by  Jove  !  "  so  he 

Threw  overboard  the  cargo. 


68  THE    YOUNG    DECLAIMER. 

A  long  war  then  they  had,  in  which 

John  was  at  last  defeated — 
And  "  Yankee  Doodle  "  was  the  march 

To  which  his  troops  retreated. 
Cute  Jonathan  to  see  them  fly, 

Could  not  restrain  his  laughter  ; 
"  That  tune,"  said  he,  "  suits  to  a  T, 

I'll  sing  it  ever  after." 

With  "  Hail  Columbia  !  "  it  is  sung, 

In  Chorus  full  and  hearty — 
On  land  and  main,  we  breathe  the  strain, 

John  made  for  his  tea-party. 
"  Yankee  Doodle — ho — ha — he — ! 

Yankee  Doodle  Dandy — 
We  kept  the  tune  but  not  the  tea, 

Yankee  Doodle  Dandy  ! " 

. »-♦-« . 


Try— Keep  Trying. 

Have  your  efforts  proved  in  vain  ? 
Do  not  sink  to  earth  again ; 

Try — ^keep  trying: 
They  who  yield  can  nothing  do — 
A  feather's  weight  will  break  them  through; 

Try — ^keep  trying : 
On  yourself  alone  relying, 
You  will  conquer  ;  try — keep  trying. 


THE    YOUNG    DECLAIMER.  69 

Falter  not — but  upward  rise, 
Put  forth  all  your  energies  : 

Try — keep  trying : 
Every  step  that  you  progress 
Will  make  your  future  effort  less : 

Try — keep  trying: 
On  the  truth  and  God  relying, 
You  will  conquer ;  try — ^keep  trying. 

Ponderous  barriers  you  may  meet. 
But  against  them  bravely  beat : 

Try — keep  trying: 
Nought  should  turn  you  from  the  track 
Or  turn  you  from  your  purpose  back, 

Try — ^keep  trying: 
On  yourself  alone  relying, 
You  will  conquer  ;  try — keep  trying. 

You  will  conquer  if  you  try — 
Win  the  good  before  you  die  ; 

Try — ^keep  trying : 
Remember — ^nothing  is  so  true, 
As  they  who  dare  will  ever  do  ; 

Try — ^keep  trying  : 
On  yourself  and  God  relying, 
You  will  conquer ;  try — keep  trying. 


70  THE    YOUNG    DECLAIMER. 

Ambition,  False  and  True. 

I  would  not  wear  the  warrior's  wreath, 
I  would  not  court  his  crown  ; 

For  love  and  virtue  sink  beneath 
His  dark  and  vengeful  crown. 

I  would  not  seek  my  fame  to  build 

On  glory's  dizzy  height ; — 
Her  temple  is  with  water  filled ; 

Blood  soils  her  sceptre  bright. 

I  would  not  wear  the  diadem, 

By  folly  prized  so  dear ; 
For  want  and  woe  have  bought  each  gem 

And  every  pearl's  a  tear. 

I  would  not  heap  the  golden  chest 

That  sordid  spirits  crave  ; 
For  every  grain  by  penury  cursed, 

Is  gathered  from  the  grave. 

No ;  let  my  wreath  unsullied  be. 
My  fame  be  virtuous  youth ; 

My  wealth  be  kindness,  charity,— 
My  diadem  be  truth  ! 


THE    YOUNG   DECLAIMER.  71 


Por  Every  One  That  Asketh  Receiveth. 

Oh,  ask  not  wealth ; 

The  gaudy  bauble  glitters  to  deceive 
It. hath  a  thorn  to  press  thee  when  asleep; 
It  maketh  wings,  and  leaveth  thee  to  weep — 

Ask  not  what  wealth  can  give. 

Oh,  ask  not  fame ; 

The  empty  bubble  breaks  at  every  gale  ; 
Its  mighty  shadow  stalks  in  midnight  gloom ; 
It  kills  its  hero,  then  it  haunts  his  tomb. 

Where  all  its  triumphs  fail 

Oh,  ask  not  love  ; 

^'  The  fond  heart's  idol "  breaketh  the  fond  heart ; 
His  smile  is  oft  deceitful,  and  its  power 
Too  oft  is  felt  in  sorrow's  darkest  hour — 

Ask  not  his  treacherous  dart. 

Oh,  ask  not  power ; 

Seek  not  a  burden  that  must  <5rush  thee  down — 
Look  at  the  thrones  of  tyrants  in  the  dust, 
Behold  how  frail  the  prop  in  which  they  trust — 

Ask  where  their  might  has  gone. 

Ask  for  a  quiet  mind ; 
A  heart  at  rest  from  all  the  jars  of  strife— 
A  humble  heart  that  never  soars  to  fall — 


72  THE    YOUNG    DECLAIMEK. 

A  heart  to  bless  the  Hand  that  gives  its  all — 
That  priceless  gift  of  life. 

Ask  for  a  fount  of  tears ; 

The  heart  to  sympathize  in  other's  woe, 
The  soul  to  feel  for  all  the  sorrowing  here, 
And  power  to  point  them  to  a  better  sphere. 

Where  tears  can  never  flow. 

Ask  for  a  home  in  heaven. 
Poor,  lonely  wanderer  on  life'"s  troubled  sea, 
When  wealth  and  fame  an^  power  are  wrecked  and 

gone, 
And  all  earth's  blandishments  forever  flown — 
Ask  for  a  home  in  heaven,  where  grief  can  never 
be. 


Sowing*  and  Reaping:. 

Go  and  sow  beside  all  waters. 

In  the  morning  of  thy  youth, 
In  the  evening  scatter  broadcast 

Precious  seeds  of  living  truth. 
For  though  much  may  sink  and  perish, 

In  the  rocky,  barren  mold, 
And  the  harvest  of  thy  labor 

May  be  less  than  thirty  fold — 


THE    YOUNG    DECL AIMER.  73 

Let  thy  hand  be  not  withholden, 

Still  beside  all  waters  sow : 
For  thou  knowest  not  which  shall  prosper, 

Whether  this  or  that  will  grow\ 
"While  some  precious  portions  scattered, 

Growing  well  and  taking  root. 
Shall  spring  up  and  grow  and  ripen 

Into  never  dying  fruit. 

Therefore  sow  beside  all  waters, 

Trusting,  hoping,  toiling  on ; 
When  the  fields  are  white  wdth  harvest, 

God  will  send  his  angel  down : — 
And  thy  soul  may  see  the  value 

Of  its  patient  morns  and  eves. 
When  the  everlasting  garner 

Shall  be  filled  with  precious  sheaves. 


Soxuething:  Still  To  Do. 

Though  the  day  has  nearly  past 

Sit  not  down  with  idle  hands. 
Labor  while  the  hours  shall  last, 

While  shall  flow  Life's  golden  sands ; 
Life  is  changeful,  ever  brief. 

Oh !  improve  each  fleeting  span. 
Turn,  each  day,  some  brighter  leaf; 

Measure  Time  hy  deeds  to  man. 


74  THE    YOUNG    DECLAIMER. 

Knows't  thou  not  some  burdened  soul 

Fettered  by  disease  and  pain  ? 
Point  to  him  the  heavenly  goal, 

Bid  him  rise  and  strive  again. 
Knows't  thou  not  a  drooping  heart 

Sinking  'neath  misfortune's  blight  ? 
Go,  and  friendship's  warmth  impart, 

Give  to  him  a  ray  of  light. 

We  are  not  to  know  the  way 

God  shall  work  Life's  problem  out ; 
Let  us  labor  while  we  may, 

Trusting  Him,  nor  have  a  doubt. 
And  with  love  for  all  mankind. 

Resting  not  till  life  be  through, 
Let  us  work,  when  we  shall  find 

Something  still  for  us  to  do ! 

Dexter  Smith. 


Boys'  and  G-irls'  Rigrhts. 

In  every  land  and  continent 

Good  people  bear  in  mind. 
How  much  is  said  about  the  rights 

Of  men  and  womenkind ; 
And  though  we're  present  everywhere, 

And  make  a  deal  of  noise. 
There's  very  little  said  about 

The  rights  of  girls  and  boys. 


THE    YOUNG    DECLAIMER.  75 

We  want  the  right  to  use  our  eyes 

And  take  in  every  sight, 
To  see,  compare,  and  measure  facts, 

The  length,  and  breadth,  and  height. 
We  want  the  right  to  use  our  tongues. 

And  keep  them  busy,  too, 
In  asking  questions  every  day. 

And  have  them  answered  true. 

When  we  do  wrong,  we  want  the  right 

To  claim  a  day  of  grace, 
A  household  jury,  if  you  will. 

To  sit  upon  our  case, 
And  not  be  punished  for  our  faults 

With  sudden  words  and  blows. 
Enough  to  drive  the  goodness  out 

Through  fingers  and  through  toes. 

We  want  to  be  respected,  too. 

And  not  be  snubbed  outright. 
And  put  off  with  a  careless  word. 

Because  we  are  small  and  slight. 
And  when  we  take  the  Ship  of  State, 

And  throw  by  childish  toys, 
We'll  make  a  law  to  regulate 

The  rights  of  girls  and  boys. 


PART  II.-PROSE. 


•  ♦♦ 


Goodness  of  God. 

Let  us  consider  the  faculties  of  man,  and  see  how 
many  and  how  great  are  the  pleasures  which  may 
be  derived  from  them.  In  the  family,  what  enjoy- 
ment do  parents  find  in  the  love  and  care  they 
bestow  upon  their  children, — and  how  sweet  and 
joyous  is  the  affection  which  children  feel  towards 
their  parents.  How  pleasant,  too,  is  the  love  of 
brothers  and  sisters,  of  relations  and  friends. 

And  then,  let  us  reflect  upon  the  beauty  that  is 
spread  over  the  face  of  nature.  Why  are  flowers 
so  beautiful  and  so  greatly  variegated  if  not  to  give 
pleasure  to  man  ?  Why,  if  God  is  not  benevolent, 
has  he  made  hills,  and  valleys,  and  rolling  waves, 
and  rushing  waters  so  beautiful?  Why  has  He 
made  the  forms  and  motions  of  birds  so  charming,  if 
not  to  give  pleasure  to  man?  If  the  Creator  did 
not  intend  to  delight  us,  why  did  He  spread  sublim- 
ity over  the  mountains  and  teach  man  to  feel  it? 
Why  did  he  robe  the  heavens  in  azure,  and  make  a 
nivriad   race  of  beings  to  feel  their  majesty  and 

(76) 


THE    YOUNG   DECLAIMER.  77 

beauty  ?  Why  did  He  clothe  all  vegetable  nature 
in  green,  and  make  human  beings  with  eyes  to  rel- 
ish it  above  all  other  hues  ?  AVhy  did  He  teach 
the  birds  to  sing,  the  waters  to  murmur  forth  melody, 
the  trees  to  bend,  in  beauty  and  grace,  to  the  pres- 
sure of  the  breeze  ?  Why,  if  God  is  not  a  good 
being, — did  he  make  this  world  so  pleasant,  endow 
it  with  light,  and  color,  and  music,  and  perfumes, 
and  place  beings  here  adapted  to  the  appreciation 
and  enjoyment  of  these  things  ?  Surely  our  Heav- 
enly Father, — God, — who  made  all  things,  is  infin- 
itely wise,  and  great,  and  good,  and  we  should  ever 
seek  to  love  and  obey  Him, — For  "  in  Him  we  live, 
and  move,  and  have  our  being." 


The  Flowers. 

When  we  walk  into  the  fields,  how  many  flowers 
we  behold  !  Some  spring  up  in  the  grass,  looking 
like  little  stars ; — some  twine  in  the  hedge,  and  some 
hang  from  trees  and  plants. 

How  pleasant  it  is  to  see  them  with  their  bright 
and  beautiful  colors, — red  and  blue,  yellow  and 
white.  Some  are  round  like  caps ;  some  are  shaped 
like  a  ball ;  some  stand  up  erect,  and  others  hang 
their  heads, — but  all  are  beautiful,  and  bespeak  the 
power,  and  wisdom  and  goodness  of  our  Creator. 

And  then  while  they  look  so  fair  and  bright, 
how  sweet  is  their  fragrance  !     The  air  is  full  of 


78  THE    YOUNG   DECLAIMER. 

their  sweets,  and  the  bees  hum  around  them  and  sip 
honey  from  their  rosy  lips. 

Why  did  God  make  the  flowers  and  give  to  them 
such  bright  colors  and  such  sweet  odors  ?  Was  it 
not  for  our  happiness  ? 

He  might  have  made  them  dull  and  ugly  in  ap- 
pearance, and  offensive  in  smell, — so  that  they 
would  have  given  us  pain  instead  of  pleasure.  But 
God  is  good,  and  he  wished  to  make  us  happy  and 
so  he  made  the  flowers  lovely  and  bright. 

As  the  sun  shines  upon  the  flowers,  so  our  Heav- 
enly Father  will  smile  upon  us  when  we  do  right, 
and  try  to  make  all  about  us  happy. 

As  flowers  turn  towards  the  sun  all  day  and  seem 
to  follow  him  in  his  course,  so  should  we  let  our 
hearts  turn  to  the  God  who  made  us, — for  he  is  our 
bright  Sun,  and  without  him  we  should  fade  away 
and  die. 


The  Clouds. 

How  beautiful,  often,  are  the  clouds  at  momi 
As  the  sun's  rays  tinge  them  they  look  like  ruby 
gems  set  around  with  gold,  and  the  lark  mounts 
towards  them  and  sings  as  if  he  were  at  Heaven's 
gate. 

And  at  noon  how  bright  and  beautiful  are  the 
clouds  as,  high  in  the  sky,  they  float  and  show  their 
pearly  whiteness  in  the  blue  sky. 


THE   YOUNG    DECLAIMER.  79 

But  at  sunset  the  clouds  are  most  beautiful  of  all, 
and  in  the  far  west,  assume  a  great  variety  of  forms 
and  hues.  At  night,  when  the  moon  shines  on 
them,  they  look  soft,  and  fair,  and  white,  and  pure, 
— and  sometimes,  when  all  is  hushed  and  still,  they 
seem  like  a  flock  of  little  lambs  asleep. 

Yet,  what  are  these  beautiful  clouds  but  vapors  I 
How  soon  they  change  and  pass  away ! 

The  life  of  man  is  like  a  cloud — ever  fleeting  and 
changing  ;  to-day  it  is  gay  and  bright, — to-morrow 
dark,  and  full  of  gloom  : — and  yet  again  the  sun's 
bright  rays  shine  when  it  is  all  bright  and  cheerful. 

As  the  sun  gives  to  the  clouds  their  beauty  and 
brightness — gilding  them  with  his  beauty — so  the 
smiles  of  our  Heavenly  Father  cheer  and  bless  tlie 
life  of  man. 

It  is  He  who  gives  to  life's  morning  its  bright 
joys ;  it  is  He  who  sustains  and  exalts  us  in  man- 
hood ;  in  the  storm  and  darkness  of  life.  He  smiles 
upon  us,  like  a  rainbow,  full  of  hope  and  promise ; 
and  when  death  comes,  if  we  will  trust  him.  He  will 
take  us  safely  over  death's  cold  stream,  and  give  us 
a  secure  abode  in  the   "  house  of  many  mansions." 


Autumn, 
The  autumn,  with  its  ripening  fruits,  and  waving 
harvests,  is  now  with  us.     We  see  on  every  hand 
the  results  of  the   farmer's  toil  and  forecast  in  the 


80  THE    YOUNG   DECLAIMER. 

spring-time.  Then  it  was  that  he  broke  up  the  soil, 
sowed  the  seed,  pruned  his  trees,  and  guarded  the 
tender  plants.  Now,  we  see  the  ripening  crops. 
The  trees  are  bending  with  the  golden  fruit,  and 
abundance  rewards  the  farmer's  toil. 

But  suppose  the  farmer  had  not  improved  the 
spring- time,  and  left  the  soil  unturned,  the  seed  un- 
sown, the  trees  un trimmed,  and  everything  neglect- 
ed ;  what  would  now  be  the  result  ?  We  should  see 
nothing  but  barren  fields,  overrun  with  weeds  and 
briars  ;  and  the  farmer  would  fc'sl  that  a  winter  of 
want  and  distress  was  before  him. 

And  let  us  remember  that  the  autumn  of  life  will 
come  on  apace ;  and  that  what  we  now  sow,  we 
shall  then  reap.  If  we  would  reap  an  abundant 
harvest,  and  gather  precious  fruit,  and  secure  an 
autumn  of  plenty  and  prosperity,  we  must  now,  in 
the  spring-time  of  life,  be  diligent  and  careful  in  the 
cultivation  of  our  hearts.  We  must  form  only  those 
habits  which  will  produce  good  fruits.  Our  acts 
must  be  noble,  our  thoughts  and  our  words  must  be 
purcj  our  feelings  must  be  kind.  Above  all  we 
must  seek  the  aid  of  our  Heavenly  Father,  and  con- 
stantly aim  to  cultivate  good  habits.  As  we  now 
sow,  we  shall  then  reap.  If  we  "  sow  to  the  wind, 
we  shall  reap  the  whirlwind." 


THE    YOUNG    DECLAIMEK,  81 

Perseverance. 

"  Try  again,"  is  a  very  useful  maxim  to  old  and 
young,  rich  and  poor ;  and  great  results  will  come 
from  putting  this  short  rule  into  practice. 

We  would  not  give  a  fig  for  the  boys  and  girls 
who  sit  pining  and  whining  over  an  example  in 
arithmetic,  or  a  lesson  in  grammar  that  seems  to  be 
more  difficult  than  common.  If  they  will  only  go 
to  work  in  earnest  and  "  keep  trying,"  all  will  come 
out  right. 

Let  us  learn  a  lesson  from  Columbus,  the  discov- 
erer of  America.  When  he  first  set  sail,  what  dif. 
ficulties  he  met  with,  and  how  often  was  he  disap- 
pointed in  his  expectations  !  Day  after  day  he  tried 
and  "  tried  again,"  and  by  perseverance  he  finally 
found  the  wished-for  land. 

But  let  us  not  forget  that  we  may  make  a  bad  use 
of  a  good  maxim,  just  as  we  may  of  anything  else 
that  is  good.  Many  people  have  made  a  bad  use  of 
our  maxim  "  Try  again." 

A  man  once  made  a  rash  leap  over  a  large  log 
and  injured  his  leg.  He  was  angry,  and  said, 
"What  a  fool  I  was  to  hurt  me.  I  will  'try  again.'" 
He  did  try  again,  and  injured  himself  for  life. 

From  this  let  us  learn  that  we  should  "  try  again  " 
only  when  the  thing  we  wish  to  do  is  really  worth 
doing.  Let  us  think  well  of  what  we  undertake, 
and  if  our  aim  is  a  good  one,  let  us  "  try  again  and 
again,"  if  necessary,  until  we  finally  succeed. 


82  THE    YOUNG    DECLAIMER. 

The  Ton&ue. 

Every  child  has  in  his  mouth  a  thing  to  talk  with, 
called  the  tongue.  It  was  made  to  speak  the  truth 
with,  and  when  it  tells  a  falsehood  it  does  that 
which  is  very  wrong. 

The  tongue  was  made  to  speak  kind  and  pleasant 
words,  and  when  it  utters  unkind  and  harsh  words 
it  is  a  naughty  tongue. 

When  the  tongue  says  disobedient  words  to  a 
father  or  mother,  it  is  a  wicked  tongue,  and  when  it 
speaks  angrily  to  a  brother  or  a  sister,  it  is  a  very 
bad  tongue  indeed. 

When  the  tongue  uses  profane,  or  impure  words, 
it  does  that  which  our  Heavenly  Father  has  ex- 
pressly forbidden. 

And  now,  schoolmates,  as  we  all  have  this  tongue, 
let  us  ask  ourselves  what  sort  of  an  article  it  is. 
Does  it  always  speak  the  truth  ?  Does  it  always 
utter  pure,  and  good  words  ? 

We  are  told  in  the  Bible  that  the  tongue  is  an 
unruly  member,  and  let  us  strive  earnestly  to  keep 
it  in  subjection, — and  may  it  never  be  allowed  to 
speak  unkindly  of  any  one,  nor  may  it  ever  utter 
profene  or  impure  words.  If  the  heart  is  kept 
pure  the  tongue  will  be  pure  also. 

•-♦^« 

Bivers. 

Rivers  have  their  rise  in  little  rills  which  gush 
from  the  sides  of  momitains  and  hills.     Several  of 


THE    YOUNG    DECL AIMER.  83 

these  unite  and  form  a  stream ;  and  these  streams 
form  rivulets,  and  rivulets  form  rivers,  which  often 
run  for  many  hundred  miles,  making  the  land  upon 
their  banks  fertile. 

When  a  river  descends  from  high  land  to  that 
which  is  lower,  it  often  falls  over  rocks  and  is  called 
a  cascade,  or,  if  very  large,  a  cataract.  Some  of 
these  are  so  large  that  their  roaring  noise  may  be 
heard  for  several  miles. 

Some  rivers  overflow  their  banks  at  certain  sea- 
sons, and  thus  tend  to  make  the  land  productive. 
The  river  Nile,  in  Egypt,  overflows  its  banks  and 
leaves  a  rich  deposit,  and  very  large  crops  of  rice 
and  grain  are  produced  from  the  land.  Rivers  are 
very  numerous  and  very  useful. 

Our  lives  may  be  compared  to  a  river.  The  lit- 
tle stream  is  like  a  child,  and  plays  among  the  flow- 
ers of  a  meadow;  it  waters  a  garden,  or  turns  a 
child's  mimic  mill  wheel.  As  it  flows  on  it  gathers 
strength,  and  like  a  child,  it  sometimes  becomes  tur- 
bulent and  impatient.  Sometimes,  like  a  bad  man, 
it  causes  destruction  and  loss  wherever  it  goes,  and 
becomes  the  terror  of  all.  But  oftentimes  it  flows 
quickly  along,  and,  like  a  good  man,  proves  a  bless- 
ing in  all  its  course. 

Schoolmates,  let  it  be  our  aim  to  resemble  the 
river  whose  waters  are  for  the  good  of  mankind. 
Let  our  lives  be  so  ordered  that  we  may  ever  do 
good,  and  wherever  we  move  may  we  cause  happi- 


84  THE    YOUNG    DECLAIMER. 

ness  and  joy  to  go  with  us : — ever  looking  to  pro- 
mote the  welfare  of  others.  Thus  shall  we  secure 
the  blessing  and  favor  of  our  Father  in  Heaven. 


Winter. 

Cold,  bustling,  stormy  winter  is  coming.  The 
leaves  have  already  fallen  from  the  trees  ;  the  pretty 
flowers  have  withered;  the  birds  have  flown  to 
warmer  climes  ;  the  squirrels  have  gone  to  their 
nests,  and  soon  the  ground  will  be  covered  with 
snow,  and  the  streams  and  ponds  will  be  frozen 
over. 

The  farmer  has  gathered  his  hay  and  vegetables ; 
the  cattle  are  no  longer  upon  the  hills  and  in  the 
valleys ;  the  woodman's  axe  rings  through  the  forest 
as  he  cuts  the  trees  to  supply  the  blazing  fire.  Out 
of  doors  all  is  dreary  and  cold. 

But  let  it  not  be  so  within  doors.  Let  us  do 
what  we  can  to  make  our  homes  pleasant  and  hap- 
py. Let  us  try  to  do  something  to  assist  the  dear 
parents  who  do  so  much  for  us.  Let  us  be  kind  to 
all,  and  ever  seek  to  promote  the  happiness  of 
others. 

And  while  our  hearts  are  thankful  to  our  Heav- 
enly Father  for  all  the  comforts  we  enjoy,  may  we 
constantly  seek  to  do  good  to  others,  and  to  cheer 
those  who  are  less  fortunate  than  we. 

Let  us  aim  so  to  improve  the  spring-tiijie  of  life 


THE    YOUNG    DECLAIMER.  85 

that  its  summer  and  autumn  may  abound  in  good 
fruits,  and  its  winter  be  peaceful  and  happy. 


"Words  of  Advice. 

Dear  Schoolmates  ; — Will  you  allow  me  to  give 
you  a  few  words  of  advice,  and  if  you  will  heed 
them  I  am  confident  you  will  never  regret  it. 

Rise  early,  and  render  your  thanks  to  the  Giver 
of  all  good.  Enter  steadily  and  fearlessly  upon  the 
duties  of  the  day.  Be  determined  that  no  trial  shall 
overcome  your  patience,  and  no  impediment  with- 
stand your  perseverance.  If  the  object  be  worthy 
your  efforts,  let  no  obstacle  prevent  its  attainment. 

Never  be  found  without  an  object.  Ask  your- 
self how  you  can  do  the  most  good ;  and,  when  you 
have  decided,  throw  your  whole  soul  into  your  pur- 
pose. Never  do  good  merely  to  obtain  praise. 
Take  a  red  hot  iron  in  your  hand,  rather  than  a  dis- 
honest penny. 

Do  no  bad  action  to  serve  a  good  friend.  Be 
indulgent  to  others'  faults  ;  but  implacable  to  your 
own.  Wage  war  with  every  evil  passion,  and  give 
no  quarter.  Die  for  the  truth,  rather  than  live  to 
uphold  a  lie.  Never  court  needless  danger,  nor  fly 
from  a  peril  which  duty  imposes. 

Read  good  books,  select  good  companions,  attend 
to  good  counsel,  and  imitate  good  examples.  Never 
give  way  to  despondency.     Does  the  sun  shine? 


86  THE    YOUNG    DECL AIMER. 

Rejoice.  Is  it  covered  with  a  cloud?  Wait  till 
the  cloud  has  passed  away. 

Endeavor  to  add  daily  to  your  stock  of  useftil 
knowledge ;  see  that  your  principles  and  your  prac- 
tice are  equal  to  your  attainments. 

Your  deportment  toward  others  is  the  standard 
by  which  they  will  estimate  your  character.  Be 
attentive,  therefore,  to  your  manners.  Those  are 
the  best  manners  that  raise  you  in  the  opinion  of 
others,  without  sinking  you  in  your  own. 

In  all  your  intercourse  with  others,  be  kind  and 
courteous,  and  you  will  not  fail  to  win  their  respect 
and  esteem. 

If  you  wish  to  become  good  and  wise  men,  you 
must  begin  while  you  are  young,  or  you  will  never 
begin  at  all. 


Be  Busy. 
There  is  no  better  motto  for  us  than  this, — "  Be 
busy."  The  young  man  who  resolves  in  his  youth 
to  be  always  busy,  will  make  his  mark  in  the  world. 
The  idler  never  does  anything ;  it  is  by  the  indus- 
trious, the  ever  busy  hands  and  minds,  that  great 
deeds  are  done ;  and  the  more  a  man  does,  the  more 
he  may  do.  The  mind  grows  by  thought  and  study  ; 
by  exercise,  the  mental,  as  well  as  the  physical  pow- 
ers become  stronger.  Our  country  is  noted  for  its 
self-made  men ;  and  why  are  they  such  ?    How  came 


THE    YOUNG    DECLAIMER.  87 

our  lamented  President  Lincoln  to  occupy  the 
Chair  of  State  ?  He  was  a  poor  boy,  without  the 
means  that  many  enjoy  to  become  learned  and 
great — with  nothing  but  willing  hands  and  a  brave 
heart  to  make  his  mark  in  the  world.  These  he 
possessed ;  and,  with  economy,  industry,  and  perse- 
verance, he  broke  down  every  opposing  barrier,  and 
wrote  his  name  high  on  the  pinnacle  of  fame. 
What  he  has  done,  others  may  do.  Men  are  not 
born  great  in  republican  America.  Americans 
must  work  out  their  own  greatness ;  and  activity  in 
body,  in  mind,  in  everything,  is  required  to  do  it. 

The  world  wants  just  such  men  to  live  in  it, — 
men  of  nerve,  action,  enterprise.  Idlers  and  drones 
are  out  of  place  in  a  business  world.  The  heavens 
and  the  earth  were  never  intended  for  their  habita- 
tion ;  let  them  die  out !  Be  wide  awake  in  spirit 
and  in  truth,  is  the  true  doctrine.  The  journey  is 
before  us,  and  if  we  die,  we  must  let  death  overtake 
us  scaling  the  rugged  heights  above,  rather  than 
find  us  wallowing  in  the  mire  beneath. 


Time. 

There  are  some  insects  which  live  but  a  single 
day.  In  the  morning  they  are  born  ;  at  noon  they 
are  in  full  life,  and  at  evening  they  die.  The  life 
of  man  is,  in  some  respects,  similar  to  that  of  these 


88  THE    YOUNG    r)ECLAIMER. 

insects.  It  is  true  he  may  live  for  years,  but  the 
time  is  so  short,  and  so  uncertain,  that  every  mo- 
ment is  of  some  value.  Our  life  may  be  compared 
to  a  journey.  As  every  step  of  the  traveler  brings 
him  nearer  to  his  journey's  end,  so  every  tick  of  the 
clock  takes  us  nearer  to  the  end  of  life. 

The  life  of  man,  like  that  of  the  insect,  may  be 
divided  into  three  parts :  youth,  or  morning ;  mid- 
dle age,  or  noon;  and  old  age,  or  evening.  In 
youth,  we  get  our  education,  and  lay  up  those  stores 
of  knowledge  which  are  to  guide  and  assist  us  in 
the  journey  of  life.  As  this  journey  is  of  import- 
ance, we  should  be  busy  in  preparing  f  )r  it.  As  it 
can  be  made  once  only,  let  us  try  to  make  it  well. 
Let  us  see  to  it  that  the  hours  allotted  to  study  or 
business  are  not  spent  in  mere  idleness.  Middle 
age  is  the  time  for  action,  and  in  youth  we  should 
lay  up  knowledge,  and  gain  wisdom  that  we  may 
act  well  and  wisely  our  part  in  later  years.  Youth 
properly  improved,  and  middle  age  well  spent,  will 
tend  to  prepare  us  for  old  age  and  for  the  life 
beyond  the  grave.  Then,  schoolmates,  let  us  all 
strive  to  be  faithful  in  the  performance  of  all  the 
duties  that  devolve  upon  us,  and  thus  gain  the  good 
will  of  our  Heavenly  Father. 


The  Echo. 
A  little  boy,  whose  name  was  George,  as  yet 
knew  nothinfr  of  the  echo.     On  one  occasion,  when 


THE    YOUNG    DECLAIMER.  .         89 

left  alone  in  the  meadow,  he  cried  out  loudly,  "  O ! 
O ! "  when  he  was  directly  answered  from  the  hill 
close  by,  "  O  !  O  !"  Surprised  to  hear  a  voice  with- 
out seeing  any  person,  he  cried  out,  "  Who  are 
you  ?"  The  voice  replied,  "  Who  are  you  ?"  He 
then  screamed  out,  "  You  are  a  silly  fellow,"  and 
"silly  fellow"  was  answered  back  from  the  hill. 

This  only  made  George  more  angry,  and  he  went 
on  calling  the  person,  whom  he  thought  he  heard, 
nicknames,  which  were  all  repeated  exactly  as  he 
uttered  them.  He  then  went  to  look  for  the  boy, 
in  order  to  strike  him ;  but  he  could  find  no  one. 
So  he  ran  home,  and  told  his  mother  that  an  impu- 
dent fellow  had  hid  himself  behind  the  trees  on  the 
hill,  and  called  him  nicknames.  Having  explained 
to  his  mother  what  had  taken  place,  she  said  to  him, 
"George,  my  boy,  you  have  deceived  yourself;  you 
have  heard  nothing  but  the  echo  of  your  own  words  ; 
f  you  had  called  out  a  civil  word  towards  the  hill, 
a  civil  word  would  have  been  given  back  in  return." 
*^  O,"  said  George,  "  I  will  go  down  to  morrow  and 
say  good  words,  and  get  good  words  from  the  echo." 

"  So  it  is,"  said  the  mother,  "  in  life,  with  boys 
and  girls,  and  men  and  women.  A  good  word  gen- 
erally produces  a  good  word,  or,  as  the  wise  man 
said,  '  a  soft  a^iswer  turneth  away  wrath.'  If  we 
smile  on  tlie  world,  the  world  will  smile  on  us ;  if 
we  give  frowns,  we  shall  have  frowns  in  return.     If 


90  THE     YOUNG    DECLAIMER. 

we  arc  uncivil  or  unkind  towards  others,  we  cannot 
expect  anything  better  from  them." 


A  Psalm. 

The  heavens  declare  the  glory  of  God ;  and  the 
firmament  showeth  his  handy-work.  Day  unto  day 
uttereth  speech,  and  night  unto  night  showeth  knowl- 
edge. There  is  no  speech  nor  language,  where 
their  voice  is  not  heard. 

Their  line  is  gone  out  through  all  the  earth,  and 
their  words  to  the  end  of  the  world.  In  them  hath 
he  set  a  tabernacle  for  the  sun,  which  is  as  a  bride- 
groom commg  out  of  his  chamber,  and  rejoiceth  as 
a  strong  man  to  run  a  race.  His  going  forth  is 
from  the  end  of  the  heaven,  and  his  circuit  unto  the 
ends  of  it ;  and  there  is  nothing  hid  from  the  heat 
thereof 

The  law  of  the  Lord  is  perfect,  converting  the 
soul;  the  testimony  of  the  Lord  is  sure,  making 
wise  the  simple.  The  statutes  of  the  Lord  are  righb 
rejoicing  the  heart ;  the  commandment  of  the  Lord 
is  pure,  enlightening  the  eyes. 

The  fear  of  the  Lord  is  clean,  enduring  forever ;  the 
judgments  of  the  Lord  are  true  and  righteous  alto- 
gether. More  to  be  desired  are  they  than  gold,  yea 
than  much  fine  gold ;  sweeter  also  thanlioney  an  d  the 
honey  comb.  Moreover,  by  them  is  thy  servant 
warned :  and  in  keeping  of  them  there  is  great  reward' 


THE    YOUNG    D EC L AIMER.  .         91 

Who  can  understand  his  errors  ?  cleanse  thou  ne 
from  secret  faults.  Keep  back  thy  servant  also 
from  presumptuous  sins  ;  let  them  not  have  domin- 
ion over  me :  then  shall  I  be  upright,  and  I  shall  be 
innocent  from  the  great  transgression. 

Let  the  words  of  my  mouth,  and  the  meditation 
of  my  heart,  be  acceptable  in  thy  sight,  O  Lord,  my 
strength,  and  my  redeemer. 


Address  of  Welcome. 

Dear  Parents  and  Friends: — In  behalf  of 
my  teachers  and  schoolmates,  I  bid  you  a  cordial 
welcome  to  our  pleasant  school-room.  Here  we  are 
wont  to  meet,  from  day  to  day,  and  spend  many 
hours  in  attending  to  those  lessons  which  will  pre- 
pare us  to  discharge  usefully  the  duties  of  life.  We 
have  speut  some  of  our  happiest  hours  in  this  room, 
and  have  only  to  regret  that  we  have  not  been  more 
diHgent,  and  more  attentive  to  our  duties  as  mem- 
bers of  this  school.  With  this  regret  for  errors  of 
the  past,  we  feel  a  strong  determination  better  to 
improve  the  future,  so  that  each  passing  moment 
shall  bear  with  it  a  good  record. 

To  your  attention  and  kindness  we  feel  greatly 
indebted  for  the  privileges  we  here  enjoy,  and  we 
trust  that  we  feel  truly  grateftJ.  We  have  invited 
you  to  meet  us  here,  with  the  hope  that  an  hour 
may  be  spent  which  shall  be  mutually  interesting 


92  THE    YOUNG    DECLAIMER. 

and  profitable.     In  judging  of  the  exercises  to  which 

you  may  now  listen,  we  beg  that 

"  You'll  not  view  us  with  a  critic's  eye, 
But  pass  our  imperfections  by." 

We  wish  you  to  remember  that  we  are  but  chil- 
dren, and  that  childhood's  errors  will  probably  mark 
our  performances.  We  will  try  to  feel  that  we  aie 
surrounded  by  our  dearest  friends,  and  if  we  shall, 
in  any  degree,  succeed  in  causing  the  time  to  pass 
in  a  manner  agreeable  to  you,  we  shall  feel  amply 
paid  for  all  our  efforts. 

For  myself,  for  my  teachers,  and  for  these  my 
companions,  I  tender  you  heartfelt  and  sincere 
thanks  for  all  past  acts  of  favor  and  kindness. 
Especially  would  we  remember,  with  grateful  feel- 
ings, those  who  have  devoted  so  much  time  and 
manifested  so  much  interest  for  our  good, — the 
school  co.nmittee.  We  hope  no  one  of  them  will 
ever  have  occasion  to  feel  that  he  has  been  dishon- 
ored by  the  dishonorable  acts  of  any  pupil  of  this 
school. 

We  have  been  placed  under  weighty  obligation, 
and  we  feel  that  much  may  justly  be  expected  of  us. 
That  we  may  properly  appreciate  and  improve  our 
privileges,  so  that  we  may  become  intelligent,  useful, 
and  valuable  members  of  society,  we  bespeak  your 
continued  care  and  watchfulness ;  and,  in  return  for 
them,  we  will  endeavor  so  to  improve  our  time  and 


THE    YOUNG    DECLAIMER.  '         1)3 

opportunities  as  to  deserve  and  secure  your  hearty 
approbation. 


Don't  Give  Up. 


If  we  would  ever  accomplish  anything  in  life,  let 
us  not  forget  that  we  must  persevere.  If  we  would 
learn  our  lessons  in  school,  we  must  be  diligent  and 
not  give  up  whenever  we  come  to  anything  difficult. 
We  shall  find  many  of  our  lessons  very  hard,  but 
let  us  consider  that  the  harder  they  are  the  more 
good  they  will  do  us  if  we  will  persevere  and  learn 
them  thoroughly. 

But  are  there  not  some  in  our  school  who  are 
ready  to  give  up  when  they  come  to  a  hard  exam- 
ple in  arithmetic,  and  say,  "  I  can't  do  this  ?"  They 
never  will  if  they  feel  so.  "  I  can't,"  never  did  any- 
thing worth  naming ;  but  "  I'll  try  "  accomplishes 
wonders.  Let  us  remember  that  we  shall  meet 
with  difficulties  all  through  life.  They  are  in  the 
pathway  of  every  one.  We  shall  surely  find  them 
in  the  school-room,  but  let  them  not  discourage  us. 
If  we  will  only  "  try  and  keep  trying,"  we  shall  be 
sure  to  conquer  and  overcome  every  difficulty  we 
meet  with.  If  we  have  ci  hard  lesson  to-day,  let  us 
strive  to  learn  it  well  and  then  we  shall  be  pre- 
pared for  a  harder  one  to-morrow.  And  if  we  learn 
to  master  hard  lessons  in  school  it  will  prepare  us 


94  THE    YOUNG    DECLAIMER. 

to  overcome  the  hard  things  that  we  shall  meet  in  life, 
when  our  school  days  are  over. 

Therefore,  schoolmates,  let  us  never  give  up  and 
feel  discouraged  because  we  cannot  readily  learn 
our  lessons. 

"  Falter  not, — but  upward  rise ; — 
Put  forth  all  your  energies ; 
Try, — keep  trying  : 
Every  step  that  you  progress 

Will  make  your  future  efforts  less : 
Try, — keep  trying : 
On  the  truth  and  God  relying, 

You  will  conquer  ;  try, — keep  trying." 


A  Ne-w  Term. 

Dear  Schoolmates, — We  have  just  commenc- 
ed a  new  term  of  our  school  life,  and  we  all  hope 
it  will  be  a  pleasant  and  happy  one.  In  order  that 
it  may  so  prove,  let  us  not  forget  that  much  depends 
upon  ourselves.  We  are  assured  that  our  kind 
teacher  will  do  all  in  her  power  for  our  good,  and 
that  she  will  not  ask  us  to  do  anything  unreason- 
able. 

Let  us  consider  some  of  the  things  we  must  do, 
as  members  of  this  school,  that  our  time  may  pass 
pleasantly  and  profitably. 

First,  we  must  be  regular  in  our  attendance.  If 
we  should  be  often  absent,  we  should  fall  behind 
our  class,  and  lose  all  interest  in  our  studies. 


THE    YOUNG    DEC L AIMER.  95 

We  should  strive  to  be  at  school,  not  only  every 
day,  but  in  season.  The  boy  who  is  tardy  in  his 
attendance  at  school,  will  be  very  likely  to  be  tardy 
in  the  performance  of  his  duties  when  he  becomes 
a  man. 

Again,  it  should  be  our  aim  to  be  industrious  at 
school  and  to  learn  all  our  lessons  thoroughly  and 
at  the  right  time.  Let  our  motto  be,  "  Whatever 
is  worth  doing  at  all,  is  worth  doing  well." 

I  vv^ill  name  only  one  more  duty,  and  that  relates 
to  our  deportment.  If  we  wish  to  do  all  we  can 
for  our  own  good  and  happiness,  as  well  as  for  the 
good  of  our  school  and  the  happiness  of  our  teacher, 
we  must  be  very  careftd  of  our  conduct,  and  see 
that  we  do  nothing  that  will  disturb  the  school  or 
cause  our  teacher  pain. 

I  might  call  your  attention  to  other  particulars, 
but  if  you  rightly  observe  what  I  have  already 
named,  there  will  be  but  little  occasion  for  remind- 
ing you  of  other  duties. 


•  ■»• 


Old  Charlie. 
Old  Charlie  was  a  fine-looking  horse,  and  very 
spirited.  He  was  a  very  strong,  serviceable  horse, 
too.  But  with  all  his  good  qualities.  Old  Charlie 
had  one  very  serious  fault.  When  placed  before  a 
light  load,  he  was  all  go-ahead,  and  it  required  a 
strong  arm  to  keep  him  in  check.     But  when  it 


96  THE    YOUNG    DECLAIMER. 

came  to  steady,  hard  work,  then  Old  Charlie  would 
shirk,  if  he  could  get  a  chance. 

I  remember  once  father  had  some  lumber  to  be 
boated  on  the  canal  about  twenty  miles.  Unable 
to  find  a  boatman,  he  hired  a  boat  and  took  his  own 
team,  "Old  Charlie  and  Bill,"  to  do  the  towing, 
while  I  was  driver.  The  horses  were  harnessed 
tandem,  that  is,  one  placed  before  the  other,  like 
most  of  the  teams  on  the  canal,  Old  Charlie  being 
the  hind  or  saddle-horse.  For  the  first  two  or  three 
miles  he  worked  well,  and  then,  finding  it  was  steady, 
hard  drawing,  he  took  to  his  old  habit  of  shirking, 
which  was  done  so  slyly  that  it  was  some  little  time 
before  I  discovered  it.  He  appeared  to  be  drawing 
hard  all  the  time ;  but  as  the  boat  moved  slower 
than  at  first,  and  knowing  Old  Bill  was  honest  and 
the  fault  was  not  with  him,  I  began  to  urge  Old 
Charlie  along. 

Since  that  time,  how  often  have  I  thought  of  Old 
Charlie  when  I  have  seen  smart,  active  boys,  and 
P"irls  too,  trying  to  evade  hard  study.  Such  schol- 
ars like  easy  lessons.  Then  they  are  sure  to  be 
the  first  to  learn  them.  But  when  the  lessons  need 
hard  study,  then  they  seek  to  find  some  easier  way 
to  get  along.  At  their  seats  they  have  their  books 
open,  and  appear  to  be  busy ;  but  they  are  only 
making  believe.  At  recitation,  too,  how  many  ways 
they  contrive  to  get  along,  and  not  have  it  appear 
that  they  know  nothing  about  the  lesson.     If  they 


THE    YOUNG   DECLAIMER.  .  97 

only  made  the  same  effort  to  learn  that  they  do  to 
shirk  their  lessons,  they  would  succeed  without  any 
difficulty. 

Seems  to  me  I  hear  some  boy  or  girl  saying : 
"  There,  I  liave  been  acting  just  like  Old  Charlie ; 
I  have  been  shirking  the  hard  work."  Is  that  so  ? 
Then  stop  at  once  and  take  a  new  start.  Press 
your  shoulders  right  into  the  harness,  and  you  may 
be  sure  the  load  will  move  steadily  along ;  and  be- 
fore you  know  it  your  work  will  be  done,  and  well 
done, — OMld's  Paper, 


The  Bain-Drop. 

A  little  drop  of  rain  fell  into  the  opened  leaves 
of  a  rose.  It  was  a  comfortable,  cosy  home  for  it. 
The  bed  on  which  it  rested  was  soft  as  velvet,  and 
the  perfume  of  the  rose  was  delightful.  For  awhile 
the  little  drop  was  as  happy  as  could  be. 

But  by-and-by  it  grew  tired  of  doing  nothing. 
It  is  not  r^ht,  thought  the  little  drop,  that  I  should 
be  idle  while  there  is  so  much  to  do.  The  buds  are 
spreiiding  their  leaves  to  the  sun.  The  vines  are 
hanging  out  their  tiny  grapes.  The  birds  are  build- 
ing their  nests,  singing  merrily  while  they  work. 
The  bees  are  flying  to  their  hives  with  heavy  loads 
of  honey.  Even  the  sunshine  is  warming  every- 
thing nito  life.  But  I,  what  shall  1  do  ?  I  will 
wait  and  watch.     The  great  and  good  God  will  find 


98  THE    YOUNG    DECLAIMEK. 

something  for  the  little  drop  of  v/ater  to  do  in  His 
own  good  time.  See,  there  is  a  cloud,  no  bigger 
than  a  man's  hand.  Some  of  my  brothers  and  sis- 
ters are  sleeping  in  it.  Perhaps  they  will  join  me 
in  a  little  while,  and  we  may  all  work  together  to 
do  somethirig  useful  for  this  beautiful  earth/* 

While  it  was  speaking  other  clouds  came  up  into 
the  sky,  until  the  heavens  grew  black  with  them. 
Then  the  rain  fell  merrily  enough,  and  the  little 
rain-drop  hastened  to  join  his  brothers  and  sisters. 
Together  they  ran  down  the  garden  path,  over  the 
smooth  sand,  and  then  crept  through  the  hedge  and 
over  the  grass  of  the  meadow,  until,  with  a  glad 
laugh,  they  leaped  down  into  a  brook,  and  sped 
away  toward  the  sea.  Even  here  the  little  rain- 
drop was  not  lost.  It  helped  to  water  long  miles 
of  meadows  and  the  roots  of  great  trees  in  the  for- 
est; It  helped  turn  the  wheels  of  huge  mills  and 
factories  that  gave  work  and  food  to  thousands. 
And  so  the  little  rain-drop  was  happy  in  doing  good, 
— happier  than  when  it  nestled  in  the  sweet,  soft 
leaves  of  the  rose.  It  became  so  strong  that  at 
last  it  swept  out  into  the  ocean  to  finish  what  it  had 
to  do.  But  as  it  went  into  the  darkness  it  sang^ 
"  Happy  is  the  little  drop  of  water.  The  dear 
Lord  did  not  make  it  for  nothing.  Work  and  sing ! 
work  and  sing ! " 

Schoolmates, — God  has  something  for  us  to  do, 
— something  higher  and  better  than  the  duties  of 


THE    YOUNG    DECLAIMER.  "         99 

the  little  rain-drop.  Don't  wait  and  sleep.  Learn 
your  duties  and  hasten  to  perform  them.  Then 
will  you,  in  due  time,  find  your  reward. 


Help  One  Another. 

A  traveler,  who  was  crossing  the  Alps,  was  over- 
taken by  a  severe  snow-storm.  The  cold  became 
intense.  The  air  was  thick  with  sleet,  and  the  pierc- 
ing wind  seemed  to  penetrate  into  his  bones.  Still, 
for  ^  time,  he  struggled  on.  But  at  length  his  limbs 
became  numb  and  a  heavy  drowsiness  came  upon 
him,  and  his  feet  almost  refused  to  move,  and  he 
lay  down  to  give  way  to  the  fatal  sleep  of  death. 
But  just  at  that  moment  he  saw  another  poor  trav- 
eler coming  toward  him  whose  condition  was,  if 
possible,  worse  than  his  own. 

When  he  saw  this  poor  man,  the  traveler,  who 
just  before  was  about  to  fall  asleep,  made  a  great 
effort.  He  roused  himself  up  and  crawled,  for  he 
could  not  walk,  to  his  fellow  sufferer.  He  took  his 
hands  in  his  own,  and  tried  to  warm  them ;  he  rub- 
bed his  body  and  spoke  words  of  cheer  and  com- 
fort. 

As  he  did  this,  the  dying  man  began  to  revive ; 
his  powers  were  restored,  and  he  felt  able  to  go 
forward.  But  this  was  not  all ; — for  his  benefactor, 
too,  wa-s  recovered  by  the  very  efforts  he  had  made 
to  save  his  fellow-traveler.     The  exertion  he  had 


100  THE    YOUNG   DECLAIMER. 

made  caused  the  blood  in  his  own  body  to  circulate 
more  freely.  He  grew  warm  while  striving  to  warm 
the  other.  His  drowsiness  passed  off,  he  no  longer 
wished  to  sleep,  his  limbs  recovered  their  strength, 
and  the  two  travelers  went  together  rejoicing  on 
their  way.  Soon  the  storm  ceased,  and  they  reached 
their  homes  in  safety. 

If  we  feel  our  hearts  growing  cold  towards  others 
and  our  souls  almost  perishing,  let  us  do  something 
which  may  help  another  soul  to  life  and  make  it 
glad.  "We  shall  find  this  the  best  way  to  warm,  re- 
store, and  gladden  our  own  souls. 


True  Couragre. 

True  courage  will  make  us  fear  to  do  wrong  and 
dare  to  do  right, — and,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  that  many 
boys,  a«  well  as  men,  do  not  possess  it.  They  fear 
more  to  face  public  opinion  than  to  do  wrong. 

Do  not  be  ashamed,  boys,  if  you  have  a  patch  on 
your  jacket.  It  is  no  mark  of  disgrace.  It  speaks 
well  for  your  kind  and  industrious  mothers.  For 
my  part,  I  should  rather  see  a  dozen  patches  on 
your  jacket,  than  to  hear  one  profane  or  vulgar 
word  escape  from  your  lips,  or  to  smell  the  per- 
fumes of  tobacco  in  your  breath.  It  is  much  better 
to  have  a  patched  jacket  than  to  have  a  patched 
character. 

Remember  that  no  really  good  boy  will  shun  you 


THE    YOUNG    pECLAIMER.'     '      "        '  l6l 

or  think  the  worse  of  you  because  yoa  ckritfoi'  dress 
as  well  as  some  of  your  conipanions.  If  a  bad  boy 
laughs  at  you,  let  him  laugh  and  pay  no  attention 
to  him.     He  injures  himself  and  not  you. 

Many  men,  now  rich,  were  once  as  poor  as  the 
poorest  boy  in  this  school.  They  were  pcor  in 
property  but  not  in  character. 

Fear  God  and  dare  to  do  right.  Be  honest,  be 
kind,  be  faithful,  and  you  will  find  friends  though 
your  clothes  may  be  covered  with  patches.  Fear 
to  do  wrong  and  dare  to  do  right  under  all  circum- 
stances and  in  all  places,  and  }ou  may  be  sure  of 
friends  and  success. 


The  Heavenly  World. 

The  rose  is  sweet,  but  it  is  surrounded  with 
thorns ;  the  lily  of  the  valley  is  fragrant,  but  it 
springeth  up  amongst  the  brambles. 

The  spring  is  pleasant,  but  it  is  soon  past ;  tha 
summer  is  bright,  but  the  winter  destroyeth  the 
beauty  thereof. 

The  rainbow  is  very  glorious,  but  it  soon  vanish- 
eth  away ;  life  is  good,  but  it  is  quickly  swallowed 
up  in  death. 

There  is  a  land  where  the  roses  are  without 
thorns,  where  the  flowers  are  not  mixed  with  bram- 
bles. 


r02  "  '  ^HE  'VOUNG    DECLAIMER. 

'  'Til'  that  land-  tiier^  is  eternal  spring,  and  light 
without  any  cloud. 

The  tree  of  life  groweth  in  the  midst  thereof  i 
rivers  of  pleasures  are  there,  and  flowers  that  never 
fade. 

Myriads  of  happy  spirits  are  there,  and  surround 
the  throne  of  God  with  a  perpetual  hymn. 

The  angels,  with  their  golden  harps,  sing  praises 
continually,  and  the  cherubim  fly  on  wings  of  fire. 

This  country  is  Heaven ;  it  is  the  country  of  those 
that  are  good;  and  nothing  that  is  wicked  must 
inhabit  there. 

This  earth  is  pleasant,  for  it  is  God's  earth,  and 
it  is  filled  with  many  delightful  things. 

But  that  country  is  far  better ;  there  we  shall  not 
grieve  any  more,  nor  be  sick  any  more,  nor  do 
wrong  any  more;  there  the  cold  of  winter  shall 
not  wither  us,  nor  the  heats  of  summer  scorch  us. 


Growth. 

Look  at  yonder  spreading  oak,  with  its  massy 
trunk,  and  strong  branches!  Its  roots  stiike  deep 
into  the  earth.  The  birds  build  among  the  boughs ; 
the  cattle  repose  beneath  its  shade.  The  old  men 
point  it  out  to  their  children,  but  they  themselves 
remember  not  its  growth.  For  nearly  two  hundred 
years  it  has  withstood  the  wintry  tempests. 

Yet  that  vast  tree  was  once  a  little  acorn, — such 


THE    YOUNG    DECLAIMER.  103 

as  you  may  now  find  under  its  branches.  AH  its 
massy  trunk,  all  its  knotted  branches,  all  its  multi- 
tude of  leaves  were  in  that  little  acorn.  It  ^rew 
and  unfolded  itself  by  degrees,  and  Is  now  a  mighty 
tree. 

The  mind  of  a  child  is  like  the  acorn.  Its  pow- 
ers are  folded  up,  and  do  not  at  once  appear, — but 
they  are  all  there.  The  mind  of  the  wisest  man 
now  living  was  once  like  that  of  a  little  child. 

Instruction  is  the  food  of  the  mind.  It  is  to  the 
child  what  the  dew,  and  the  rain,  and  the  rich  soil 
were  to  the  acorn.  As  the  soil,  and  the  rain,  and 
the  dew  caused  the  acorn  to  grow  and  become  a 
large  tree,  so  do  books  and  study  feed  the  mind  and 
cause  it  to  expand  and  grow. 

The  acorn  might  have  perished  in  the  ground, 
the  young  tree  might  have  been  bent  and  dwarfed ; 
— but  if  it  grew  it  could  not  be  anything  but  an  oak. 

The  child  may  become  a  foolish  man,  but,  if  he 
lives,  he  must  become  a  man.  What  sort  of  a  man 
he  shall  be,  will  depend  upon  the  culture  he  receives, 
and  the  effort  he  makes. 

Then,  schoolmates,  let  us  cherish  our  precious 
minds,  feed  them  with  truth,  and  nourish  them  with 
knowledge.  Our  minds  come  from  God, — made  in 
His  image.  The  oak  may  last  for  centuries,  but 
our  minds  will  endure  forever. 


104  THE   YOUNG   DECLAIMER. 


The  "World. 

How  beautiful  the  world  is  I  The  green  earth 
covered  with  flowers,  the  trees  laden  with  rich  blos- 
soms and  foliage,  the  blue  sky,  and  the  bright  water? 
and  the  golden  sunsliine,  all  are  beautiftil,  and  great 
must  He  be  who  made  them  all. 

It  is  a  happy  world.  How  the  merry  birds  sing 
from  tree  to  tree,  and  how  the  young  lanibs  gambol 
on  the  hill-side.  Even  the "  trees  wave,  and  the 
streams  ripple  in  gladness.  How  joyfully  and 
proudly  the  eagle  soars  up  to  the  glorious  heavens. 

His  throne  is  on  the  mountain-top. 

His  fields  the  boundless  air, 
And  hoary  peaks,  that  proudly  prop 

The  skies — his  dwellings  are. 

He  rises  like  a  thing  of  light. 

Amid  the  noontide  blaze; 
The  mid  day  sun  is  clear  and  bright — 

It  cannot  dim  his  gaze. 

The  world  is  indeed  a  happy  world,  if  we  will 
drink  in  happiness  from  the  various  sources  of  God's 
goodness  and  love. 

It  is  a  great  world.  Look  off  upon  the  mighty 
ocean  when  the  storm  is  upon  it ;  to  the  lofty  moun- 
tain when  the  thunder  and  lightning  play  over  it ; 
to  the  vast  forests,  to  the  sun,  the  moon,  and  myri- 
ads of  bright  stars.  Is  it  not  indeed  a  gi-eat  and 
wonderful  world  ?      How  great,  and  wise,  and  pow- 


THE    YOUNG    DECLAIMEK.  •        lOo 

erful  must  He  be  who  made  the  world.  He  is 
truly  the  perfection  of  all  loveliness,  all  goodness, 
all  greatness,  all  gloriousness. 

Let  us,  dear  schoolmates,  love  and  obey  this 
great  and  good  Being, — for  in  Him  we  live, — from 
Him  come  all  our  blessings. 


Tlie  Stin  and  "Wind. 
A   FABLE. 

The  Sun  and  Wind  once  fell  into  a  dispute  as  to 
their  relative  power.  The  Sun  insisted,  as  he  could 
thaw  the  iceberg,  and  melt  the  snows  of  winter,  and 
bid  the  plants  spring  out  of  the  ground,  and  send 
light  and  heat  over  the  world,  that  he  was  the  most 
powerful.  "  It  may  be,"  said  he,  '•  that  you  can 
make  the  loudest  uproar;  but  I  can  produce  the 
greatest  effect.  It  is  not  always  the  noisiest  people 
that  achieve  the  greatest  deeds." 

"  This  may  seem  very  well,"  said  the  Wind,  "  but 
it  is  not  just.  Don't  I  blow  the  ships  across  the 
sea,  turn  windmills,  drive  the  clouds  across  the 
heavens,  get  up  squalls  and  thunder-gusts,  and  topple 
down  steeples  and  houses,  with  hurricanes  ?" 

Thus  the  two  disputed,  when,  at  last,  a  traveler 
was  seen  coming  along ;  and  they  agreed  each  to 
give  a  specimen  of  what  he  could  do,  and  let  the 
traveler  decide  between  them.  So  the  Wind  began, 
and  it  blew  lustily.     It  nearly  took  away  the  trav- 


106  THE    YOUNG    DECL AIMER. 

eler's  hat  and  cloak,  and  very  nauch  impeded  his 
progress ;  but  he  resisted  stoutly.  The  Wind  hav- 
ing tried  its  best,  then  came  the  Sun's  turn.  So  he 
shone  down  with  his  summer  beams,  and  the  trav- 
eler found  himself  so  hot  that  he  took  off  his  hat 
and  cloak,  and  so  decided  that  the  Sun  had  more 
power  than  the  Wind. 

Thus  our  fable  shows  that  the  gentle  rays  of  the 
Sun  were  more  potent  than  the  tempest;  and  we 
generally  find  in  life  that  mild  means  are  more  effec- 
tive, in  the  accomplishment  of  any  object,  than  vio- 
lence. 


What  I  liike  to  See. 

I  like  to  see  a  boy  moving  cheerfully  towards  the 
school,  and  quietly  taking  his  proper  place  before 
the  hour  for  opening  school  arrives.  I  think  such 
a  boy  will  make  a  prompt  and  faithful  man. 

I  like  to  see  a  boy  in  his  place  at  school  every 
day,  and  never  allowing  himself  to  be  absent  unless 
he  is  sick.  I  think  such  a  boy  will  make  a  useful 
and  reliable  man. 

I  like  to  hear  a  boy  using  kind  and  pleasant 
words  to  his  companions.  I  think  he  will  make  a 
man  whom  all  will  be  glad  to  meet  and  to  regard  as 
a  friend. 

I  like  to  hear  a  boy  speaking  respectfully  and 


THE    YOUNG    DECLAIMER.  107 

kindly  of  his  teacher  and  parents.     I  feel  that  such 
a  boy  will  make  a  good  and  noble-hearted  man. 

I  like  to  see  a  boy  enter  the  schoolroom  wiih 
clean  face  and  hands,  with  nicely  brushed  hair,  and 
with  clothes  and  shoes  free  from  dirt  and  dust. 
When  a  man,  he  will  be  neat  and  tidy. 

I  like  to  see  a  boy  who  is  ever  ready  to  learn 
what  his  duties  are,  and  ever  anxious  to  perform 
them  faithfully.  I  think  such  a  boy  will  "  act  well 
his  part "  when  he  becomes  a  man. 

And  now,  dear  schoolmates,  I  am  sure  you  will 
agree  with  me  in  what  "  I  like,"  and  may  I  not 
hope  that  we  shall  all  be  found  striving  to  do  those 
things  which  will  be  well  pleasing  to  our  dear  teach- 
er and  parents,  and  above  all  to  our  good  Father  in 
Heaven. 

I  like  to  see  a  boy  who  dares  to  do  right,  even 
though  his  companions  laugh  at,  and  ridicule  him. 
I  think  such  a  boy  will  make  a  true  man, — one  al- 
ways to  be  trusted.  Do  not  forget,  schoolmates, 
that  the  highest  kind  of  courage  is  that  which 
makes  you  dare  to  do  right.  Then — 
Dare  to  think,  though  others  frown  ; 

Dare  in  words  your  thoughts  express ; 
Dare  to  rise,  though  oft  cast  down ; 

Dare  the  wronged  and  scorned  to  bless. 
Dare  forsake  what  you  deem  wrong ; 

Dare  to  walk  in  wisdom's  way ; 
Dare  to  give  where  gifts  belong  ; 
Dare  God's  ])recepts  to  obey. 


108  THE    YOUNG   DECLAIMER. 

Do  what  conscience  says  is  right ; 

Do  what  reason  says  is  best ; 
Do  with  all  your  mind  and  might ; 

Do  your  duty,  and  be  blest. 


What  I  Don't  lake  to  See. 

I  don't  like  to  see  a  boy  idly  loitering  on  his  way 
to  school,  and  coming  in  after  the  proper  hour  for 
commencing.  I  think  such  a  boy,  if  he  lives  to  be 
a  man,  will  always  be  a  little  late  in  all  his  duties. 

I  don't  like  to  see  a  boy  sit  idle  in  school  and 
neglect  the  lessons  required  of  him  by  his  teacher. 
An  idle  boy  will,  very  likely,  make  an  idle  and  use- 
less man. 

I  don't  like  to  see  a  boy  spend  the  precious  hours 
of  school  in  whispering  and  playing,  and  thus  inter- 
rupting those  who  wish  to  learn.  I  think  if  he 
grows  up  he  will  make  a  troublesome  neighbor. 

I  don't  like  to  see  a  boy  come  to  school  with  his 
face  unwashed,  and  his  clothes  and  shoes  covered 
with  dirt.  I  always  think  such  a  boy  will  be  a  dis- 
agreeable companion,  and  an  unwelcome  visitor. 

I  don't  like  to  hear  a  boy  using  profane  or  im- 
proper language,  for  I  fear  he  will,  when  older,  form 
other  bad  habits,  and  become  the  associate  of  the 
lawless  and  wicked. 

I  don't  like  to  see  a  boy  with  a  cigar  in  his 
mouth,  and  forming  the  habit  of  smoking.     I  fear 


THE   YOUNG   DECLAIMER.  •      109 

that,  when  a  man,  he  will  be  a  slave  to  other  bad 
habits  which  will  neither  promote  his  own  happiness 
nor  add  to  the  comfort  of  his  friends. 

I  don't  like  to  hear  a  boy  speak  harshly  or  un- 
kindly to  his  companions.  I  think  such  a  boy  will 
become  a  rude  and  harsh  man, — unworthy  the  friend- 
ship of  the  good. 

I  don't  like  to  see  a  boy  trying  to  get  his  school- 
mates to  help  him  perform  his  examples  in  arith- 
metic. I  think  he  will  be  very  apt  to  lean  upon 
others  for  help  all  through  life. 

I  don't  like  to  hear  a  boy  speaking  unkindly  of 
his  teacher  or  parents.  I  fear  such  a  boy  is  lacking, 
in  those  good  traits  which  help  to  make  a  good  man. 

And  now  I  have  told  you  of  some  of  the  things 
that  I  don't  Hke,  perhaps  at  some  other  time  I  will 
tell  you  of  some  of  the  things  that  I  do  like. 


Selfishness. 

There  were  once  a  dog  and  a  cat  sitting  by  a 
kitchen  door,  when  the  cook  came  out  and  threw 
several  pieces  of  meat  to  them. 

They  both  sprung  to  get  it,  but  the  dog  was  the 
strongest,  and  so  he  drove  the  cat  away,  and  ate  all 
the  meat  himself.  Tliis  was  selfishness  ;  by  which 
I  mean,  that  the  dog  cared  ojily  for  himself.  The 
cat  wanted  the  meat  as  much  as  he  did ;  but  he  was 
the  strongest,  and  so  he  took  it  all. 


110  THE    YOUNG   DECLAIMEK. 

But  was  this  wrong?  No, — because  ihe  dog 
knew  no  better.  The  dog  has  no  idea  of  God,  or 
of  that  beautiful  golden  rule  of  conduct,  which 
requires  us  to  do  to  others  as  we  would  have  them 
do  to  us.     The  hymn  says, — 

"  Let  dogs  delight  to  bark  and  bite, 

For  God  hath  made  them  so  ; 
Let  bears  and  lions  growl  and  fight, 

For 't  is  their  nature  to." 

But  children  have  a  different  nature,  and  a  differ- 
ent rule  of  conduct.  Instead  of  biting  and  fighting, 
they  are  required  to  be  kind  and  gentle  to  one 
another,  and  to  all  mankind. 

Instead  of  being  selfish,  like  the  dog,  they  are 
commanded  to  be  just  and  charitable,  by  which  I 
mean,  that  they  should  always  give  to  others  what 
is  their  due,  and  also  give  to  others,  if  they  can, 
what  they  stand  in  need  of. 

If  a  child  snatches  from  another  what  is  not  his, 
he  is  selfish,  and  very  wicked.  If  a  child  tries,  in 
any  way,  to  get  what  belongs  to  another,  he  is  self- 
ish, and  is  as  bad  as  a  thief  or  a  robber.  Selfish- 
ness is  caring  only  for  one's  self.  It  is  a  very  bad 
thing,  and  every  child  should  avoid  it.  A  selfish 
person  is  never  good,  or  happy,  or  beloved. 

How  miserable  should  we  all  be,  if  every  person 
was  to  care  only  for  himself!  Suppose  children 
and  grown-up  people,  were  all  to  be  as  selfish  as 
cats  and  dogs.  What  constant  fighting  there  would 
be  among  them ! 


THE    YOUNG    DECLAIMER.  .      Ill 

How  dreadful  would  it  be  to  see  brothers  and 
sisters  snarling  at  each  other,  and  pulling  each  oth- 
er's hair,  and  quarreling  about  their  food,  and  their 
playthings  !  We  ought  to  be  thankful  that  God 
has  given  us  a  higher  nature  than  that  of  beasts, 
and  enabled  us  to  gee  and  feel  the  duty  of  being 
kind  and  affectionate  to  one  another. 

And  as  we  can  see  and  feel  this  duty,  we  ought 
to  be  very  careful  always  to  observe  it. 


The  Squirrel. 

The  more  we  examine  the  works  of  nature,  the 
more  we  shall  be  made  to  feel  that  there  is  infinite 
variety  in  them — that  almost  every  part  of  the  uni- 
verse is  filled  with  inhabitants  appropriate  to  it; 
and  that  each  individual  thing  is  fitted  to  the  place 
it  occupies.  Among  plants,  for  instance,  there  are 
nearly  a  hundred  thousand  kinds  already  recorded 
in  the  books  of  the  botanists ;  among  animated 
beings,  there  are,  perhaps,  even  a  greater  number 
of  species.  And  what  a  countless  number  of  each 
individual  kind,  whether  in  the  vegetable  or  animal 
world !  Every  part  of  the  earth  is  occupied.  The 
earth,  the  air,  the  sea — each  and  all  are  inhabited 
by  myriads  of  living  things.  And  how  wonderfully 
are  they  all  adapted  to  their  several  designs !  How 
well  is  the  fish  fitted  to  his  element ;  how  admirably 
is  the  bird  adapted  to  the  life  he  is  to  lead ! 


112  THE    YOUNG    DECL AIMER. 

Among  quadrupeds,  the  lively  little  fellow,  whose 
name  we  have  selected  for  our  theme,  is  a  pleas- 
ing illustration  of  the  success  with  which  nature 
accomplishes  her  designs.  The  squirrel  is  made  to 
enliven  the  forest,  to  live  among  woods,  to  gather 
his  food,  and  make  his  nest,  and  spend  a  great  part 
of  his  life  amid  the  branches  of  the  trees.  And 
how  perfectly  is  he  at  home  in  his  domain  !  He 
springs  from  limb  to  limb — from  tree  to  tree ;  he 
ascends  or  descends  the  trunk  at  pleasure,  and 
seems  to  be  as  safe  in  his  airy  evolutions,  as  the  ox, 
or  the  horse,  upon  the  solid  ground — or  the  bird  in 
the  air,  or  the  fishes  in  the  river. 

How  perfect  an  instance  of  adaptation  is  this! 
How  nice  must  be  a  piece  of  machinery  that  could 
be  made  to  operate  with  such  celerity,  in  such  a 
variety  of  ways,  and  with  such  certain  success ! 
And  how  pleasing,  as  an  object  of  mere  beauty,  is 
the  squirrel !  How  graceful  his  form — how  cheer- 
ful his  aspect — ^how  seemingly  happy  his  existence ! 


Our  Conduct  and  Influence. 
Not  only  for  our  own  sakes,  but  on  account  of  all 
with  whom  we  associate,  it  is  our  duty  to  take  great 
care  of  our  habits.  The  general  principle  which 
should  lead  us  to  do  this  is,  that  we  cannot  live  for 
ourselves  alone.  We  must  think  of  others ;  we 
must  speak  and  act  with  them  in  our  minds.     And 


THE    YOUNG    DECLAIMER.  .         113 

we  are  bound  to  form  such  habits  as  shall  tend  to 
their  good — to  make  us  useful  in  the  world.  We 
must,  in  a  word,  deny  ourselves.  If,  while  we  are 
children,  we  take  pleasure  in  giving  a  part  of  what 
we  enjoy,  be  it  only  a  bunch  of  flowers,  or  an  apple, 
to  one  of  our  schoolmates,  we  shall  thus  prepare 
ourselves  to  make  others  good  and  happy,  when  we 
come  to  manhood.  But  a  selfish  habit  will  be  very 
hard  to  change  hereafter. 

"We  should  form  the  habit  of  associating  with 
good  persons.  A  lad  may  have  many  pleasant 
things  about  him;  he  may  be  witty,  or  bold,  or 
smart ;  but,  if  he  is  coarse  in  his  manners — if  he  is 
vulgar,  profane,  or  addicted  to  falsehood,  we  should 
shun  his  company.  We  are  apt  to  become  like  those 
with  whom  we  freely  associate;  and  although  we 
do  not  mean  to  imitate  their  faults,  and  do  not  think 
there  is  any  danger  of  it,  yet  we  may  soon  fall  into 
the  same  bad  habits.  To  be  safe,  therefore,  we 
should  never  trust  ourselves  unnecessarily  with  any 
but  good  people. 

You  may  think  it  will  be  easy  to  break  away 
from  the  company  and  acquaintance  of  a  boy,  when 
you  find  him  to  be  very  bad ;  but  it  will  not  be  so. 
Many  have  been  ruined  for  life  by  the  friendships 
they  have  formed  with  vicious  children,  while  at 
school  with  them.  They  continued  to  associate  with 
them,  and  caught  their  vices  in  youth,  and  even  up 
to  manhood.     If  we  wish  to  do  good  in  the  world, 


114  THE    YOUNG    DECLAIMER. 

we  must  be  good ;  and  we  cannot  be  good,  if  we  are 
very  intimate  with  bad  persons. 

It  is  our  duty  habitually  to  speak  well  of  others. 
We  are  accustomed  to  do  the  opposite  of  this — -to 
say  all  the  bad  things  of  others  which  we  think  the 
truth  will  allow.  This  is  wrong.  A  little  boy  once 
said  to  his  mother — "When  will  the>e  ladies  be 
gone,  so  that  we  can  talk  about  them  ?"  And  what 
was  to  be  said  about  those  ladies  ?  Probably  the 
family  were  in  the  habit  of  speaking  of  the  faults  of 
their  visitors.  If  there  was  anything  that  could  be 
ridiculed  in  their  dress  or  their  remarks^  then  was 
the  time  to  discuss  it. 

Now,  we  all  know  the  power  of  habit ;  and  if  we 
could  only  learn  to  think  what  good  things  we  could 
say  of  others,  and  keep  all  that  was  bad  to  our- 
selves, what  an  immense  improvement  there  would 
be  among  school-children,  and  in  the  whole  world ! 
It  is  our  duty  to  love  all  men ;  let  us,  therefore,  try 
to  speak  well  of  all,  and  we  shall  soon  love  them. 
If  we  talk  much  against  them,  we  cannot  love 
them. 


Punctuality. 

We  should  practice  punctuality  for  the  sake  of 

others,  as  well  as  ourselves.     He  who  is  punctual, 

will  accomplish  far  more  in  a  day  than  he  who  is 

not  so.     Washington  was  remarkable  for  this  vir- 


THE    YOUNG    DECLAIMER.  115 

tue.  He  once  rode  into  Boston  without  any  escort, 
because  the  soldiers  were  not  punctual  to  meet  him 
on  the  line  at  the  time  they  promised.  His  mother 
taught  him,  when  a  boy,  to  have  certain  hours  for 
every  employment,  and  to  do  everything  at  the 
appointed  time.  This  habit  helped,  in  his  after  life, 
to  make  him  a  good  man.  He  was  able  to  do  what, 
without  it,  he  never  could  have  done. 

We  injure  others  by  a  neglect  of  punctuality.  A 
girl  says  to  herself — "  It  is  a  little  too  cold,  or  a  lit- 
tle too  warm,  to  go  to  school  to-day;"  or  —  "I  feel 
a  slight  headache;"  and  so  she  remains  at  home. 
Now,  she  thus  not  only  loses  all  she  might  that  day 
have  learned,  but  gives  her  teacher  trouble.  He 
must  note  her  absence,  and  when  the  time  comes 
for  a  recitation  the  next  day,  she  is  behind  her  class, 
and  gives  him  and  them  further  trouble.  We  ought 
never  to  say — "  It  is  only  once — I  will  not  do  so 
again;"  and  think  thus  to  excuse  ourselves;  for, 
from  the  force  of  habit,  the  oftener  we  are  tardy,  or 
otherwise  fail  in  our  duty,  the  more  frequently  shall 
we  be  likely  to  do  so,  and  the  more  injury  shall  we 
do  others,  of  course,  by  this  fault.  So  that,  on  every 
account,  we  should  be  punctual. 

If  we  form  the  habit  of  punctuality  at  school,  it 
will  be  of  great  advantage  to  us  in  after  life.  Let 
us  not  forget  that  the  punctual  boy  will  be  likely 
to  make  a  punctual  and  faithful  man. 


116  THE    YOUNG   DECLAIMEE. 


G-ood  Advice. 

"  Take  care  of  the  minutes,  and  the  hours  will 
take  care  of  themselves,"  is  an  admirable  remark, 
and  might  be  very  seasonably  recollected  vrhen  we 
begin  to  be  "  weary  of  well  doing,"  from  the  thought 
of  having  much  to  do.  The  present  moment  is  all 
we  have  to  do  with  in  any  sense :  the  past  is  irre- 
coverable ;  the  future  is  uncertain ;  nor  is  it  fair  to 
burden  one  moment  with  the  weight  of  the  next. 
Sufficient  unto  the  moment  is  the  trouble  thereof. 
If  we  had  to  walk  a  hundred  miles,  we  should  still 
have  to  take  but  one  step  at  a  time,  and  this  process 
continued,  would  infallibly  bring  us  to  our  journey's 
end.  Fatigue  generally  begins,  and  is  always  in- 
creased, by  calculating  in  a  minute  the  exertion  of 
hours. 

Thus  in  looking  forward  in  future  life,  let  us  rec- 
ollect that  we  have  not  to  sustain  all  its  toil,  to 
endure  all  its  sufferings,  or  encounter  all  its  crosses 
at  once.  One  moment  comes  laden  with  its  own 
little  burdens,  then  flies  and  is  succeeded  by  another 
no  heavier  than  the  last ;  if  one  could  be  borne,  so 
can  another,  and  another. 

Even  in  looking  forward  to  a  single  day,  the 
spirit  may  sometimes  faint  from  an  anticipation  of 
the  duties,  the  labors,  the  trials  of  temper  and 
patience  that  may  be  expected.     Now,  this  is  un- 


THE    YOUNG   DECL AIMER.  117 

justly  laying  the  burden  of  many  thousand  moments 
upon  one.  Let  any  one  resolve  to  do  right  now, 
leaving  then  to  do  as  it  can  ;  and  if  he  were  to  live 
to  the  age  of  Methuselah,  he  would  never  do  wrong. 
But  the  common  error  is,  to  resolve  to  act  right 
after  breakfast,  or  after  dinner,  or  to-morrow  morn- 
ing, or  next  time;  but  now,  just  now,  this  once,  we 
must  go  on  the  same  as  ever. 

It  is  easy,  for  instance,  for  the  most  ill-tempered 
person  to  resolve,  that  the  next  time  h^  is  provoked 
he  will  not  let  his  temper  overcome  him ;  but  the 
victory  would  be  to  subdue  temper  on  the  present 
provocation.  If,  without  taking  up  the  burden  of 
the  future,  we  would  always  make  the  single  effort 
at  the  present  moment,  while  there  would,  at  any 
time,  be  very  little  to  do,  yet  by  this  simple  process 
continued,  everything  would  at  last  be  done. 

It  seems  easier  to  do  right  to-morrow  than  to-day, 
merely  because  we  forget,  that  when  to-morrow 
comes,  then  will  be  now.  Thus  life  passes  with 
many,  in  resolutions  for  the  future,  which  the  pres- 
ent never  fulfills. 

It  is  not  thus  with  those  who,  "  by  patient  contin- 
uance in  well  doing,  seek  for  glory,  honor,  and 
immortality  : "  day  by  day,  minute  by  minute,  they 
execute  the  appointed  task  to  which  the  requisite 
measure  of  strength  and  time  is  proportioned  ;  and 
thus,  having  worked  while  it  was  called  day,  they 


118  THE    YOUNG   DECLAIMER. 

at  length  "  rest  from  their  labors,  and  their  works 
follow  them." 

Let  us  then,  "  whatever  our  hands  find  to  do,  do 
it  with  all  our  might,"  recollecting  that  ^^7iow  is  the 
proper  and  accepted  time." 


How  to  Have  Friends. 

Every  child  must  observe  how  much  more  happy 
and  beloved  some  children  appear  to  be  than  others. 
There  are  children  with  whom  you  may  always  love 
to  be ;  they  are  happy  themselves,  and  they  make 
others  happy.  But  there  are  children  whose  society 
you  would  always  avoid;  the  very  expression  of 
whose  countenances  produces  unpleasant  feelings; 
and  who  seem  to  have  no  friends. 

No  person  can  be  happy  without  friends.  You. 
cannot  Deceive  affection,  unless  you  will  also  give  it. 
Hence  the  importance  of  cultivating  a  cheerful  and 
obliging  disposition.  You  cannot  be  happy  without 
it.  I  have  sometimes  heard  a  girl  say,  "  I  know 
that  I  am  very  unpopular  at  school."  Now,  this  is 
a  plain  confession  that  she  is  very  disobliging  and 
unamiable  in  her  disposition. 

If  your  companions  do  not  love  you,  it  is  your 
own  fault.  They  cannot  help  loving  you,  if  you 
wiU  be  kind  and  friendly.  It  is  true  that  a  sense 
of  duty  may  at  times  render  it  necessary  for  you 
to  do  that  which  is  displeasing  to  your  companions. 


THE    YOUNG    DECL AIMER.  •        119 

But  if  it  is  seen  that  you  have  a  kind  spirit ;  that 
you  are  above  selfishness ;  that  you  are  willing  to 
make  sacrifices  of  your  own  personal  convenience 
to  promote  the  happiness  of  your  associates ;  you 
will  never  be  in  want  of  friends.  You  must  not 
regard  it  as  your  misfortune,  but  your  fault,  when 
others  do  not  love  you.  It  is  not  beauty,  it  is  not 
wealth  that  will  give  you  friends.  Your  heart  must 
glow  with  kindness,  if  you  would  attract  to  your- 
self the  esteem  and  affection  of  those  by  whom  you 
are  surrounded. 

You  are  little  aware  how  much  the  happiness  of 
y<^ur  whole  life  depends  upon  the  cultivation  of  an 
affectionate  and  obliging  disposition.  If  you  adopt 
the  resolution  to  confer  favors  whenever  you  have 
an  opportunity,  you  will  surround  yourself  with 
friends.  Begin  upon  this  principle  in  childhood,  and 
act  upon  it  through  life,  and  you  will  not  only  make 
yourself  happy,  but  also  promote  the  happiness  of 
all  within  your  influence. 


Habits. 
When  a  person  has  done  a  thing  several  times  it 
is  easy  for  him  to  do  it  again.  What  we  have  often 
done  we  are  very  likely  to  repeat.  This  doing  a 
thing  over  and  over  again  is  called  hahit — and  when 
one  of  these  habits  become  established  we  follow  it 
without  thinking. 


120  THE    YOUNG    DECLAIMEK. 

Now,  in  fact,  we  are  what  our  habits  make  us. 
If  we  have  a  good  set  of  habits  we  become  good, 
and  if  we  have  a  bad  set  of  habits  they  will  make 
us  bad  and  disagreeable. 

If  this  is  true  how  important  it  is  that  we  be  care- 
ful as  to  the  habits  we  form.  Let  us  not  forget  that 
good  or  bad  habits,  formed  in  youth,  will  very  likely 
go  with  us  through  life. 

Habits  may  be  compared  to  the  clothes  we  wear. 
If  our  clothes  are  good  and  proper,  they  make  us 
attractive.  If  they  are  dirty  or  ragged,  they  will 
tend  to  make  us  unpleasant  associates.  So  good  or 
bad  habits  affect  our  character  and  standing.  If 
we  form  and  practice  good  habits,  they  will  give  us 
influence  for  good  with  the  good.  But  if  we  form 
bad  habits  our  influence  will  be  with  the  wicked  for 
evil.  Schoolmates,  will  you  not  strive  earnestly  to 
form  good  habits,  and  avoid  all  that  are  bad  ? 


Self-conceit. 

AN   ADDRESS,    SPOKEN    BY   A    VERY    SMALL   BOY. 

When  boys  are  exhibiting  in  public,  the  polite- 
ness or  curiosity  of  the  hearers  frequently  induces 
them  to  inquire  the  names  of  the  performers.  To 
save  the  trouble  of  answers,  so  far  as  relates  to  my- 
self, my  name  is  Charles  Chatterbox.  I  was  born 
in  this  town  ;  and  have  grown  to  my  present  enor- 
mous stature  without  any  artificial  help.  It  is  true, 
I  eat,  drink,  and  sleep,  and  take  as  much  care  of  my 


THE    YOUNG    DECLAIMER.  •      121 

noble  self  as  any  young  man  about ;  but  I  am  a 
monstrous  great  student.  There  is  no  telling  the 
half  of  what  I  have  read. 

Why,  what  do  you  think  of  the  Arabian  Tales  ? 
Truth  !  every  word  truth  !  There's  the  story  of 
the  lamp,  and  of  Rook's  eggs  as  big  as  a  meeting- 
house. And  there  is  the  history  of  Sinbad  the 
Sailor.  I  have  read  every  word  of  them.  And  I 
have  read  Tom  Thumb's  folio  through,  Winter  Eve- 
ning Tales,  and  Seven  Champions,  and  Parismus, 
and  Parismenus,  and  Valentine  and  Orson,  and 
Mother  Bunch,  and  Seven  Wise  Masters,  and  a  curi- 
ous book,  entitled,  Think  well  on't. 

Then  there  is  another  wonderful  book  contain- 
ing fifty  reasons  why  an  old  bachelor  was  not  mar- 
ried. The  first  was,  that  nobody  would  have  him  ; 
and  the  second  was,  he  declared  to  everybody  that 
he  would  not  marry ;  and  so  it  went  on  stronger  and 
stronger.  Then,  at  the  close  of  the  book,  it  gives 
an  account  of  his  marvelous  death  and  burial. 
And  in  the  appendix,  it  tells  about  his  being  ground 
over,  and  coming  out  as  young,  and  as  fresh,  and  as 
fair  as  ever.  Then,  every  few  pages,  is  a  picture  of 
him  to  the  life. 

I  have  also  read  Robinson  Crusoe,  and  Reynard 
the  fox,  and  ^loll  Flanders ;  and  I  have  read  twelve 
delightful  novels,  and  Irish  Rogues,  and  Life  of  St 
Patrick,  and  Philip  Quarle,  and  Conjuror  Crop,  and 
^sop's  Fables,  and  Laugh  and  be  fat,  and  Toby 


122  THE    YOUNG   DECLAIMER. 

Lumpkin's  Elegy  on  the  Birth  of  a  Child,  and  a 
Comedy  on  the  Death  of  his  Brother,  and  an  Acros- 
tic, occasioned  by  a  mortal  sickness  of  his  dear 
wife,  of  which  she  recovered.  This  famous  author 
wrote  a  treatise  on  the  Rise  and  Progress  of  Vege- 
tation ;  and  a  whole  Body  of  Divinity  he  comprised 
in  four  lines. 

I  have  read  all  the  works  of  Pero  Gilpin,  whose 
memory  was  so  extraordinary  that  he  never  forgot 
the  hours  of  eating  and  sleeping.  This  Pero  was  a 
rare  lad.  Why,  he  could  stand  on  his  head,  as  if  it 
were  a  real  pedestal ;  his  feet  he  used  for  drumsticks. 
He  was  trumpeter  to  the  foot  guards  in  Queen  Bet- 
ty's time ;  and  if  he  had  not  blown  his  breath  away, 
might  have  lived  to  this  day. 

Then,  I  have  read  the  history  of  a  man  who  mar- 
ried for  money,  and  of  a  woman  that  w^ould  wear 
her  husband's  small-clothes  in  spite  of  him ;  and  I 
have  read  four  books  of  riddles  and  rebusses ;  and 
all  that  is  not  half  a  quarter. 

Now,  what  signifies  reading  so  much  if  one  can't 
tell  of  it?  In  thinking  over  these  things,  I  am 
sometimes  so  lost  in  company,  that  I  don't  hear  any- 
thing that  is  said,  till  some  one  pops  out  that  witty 
saying,  "A  penny  for  your  thoughts."  Then  I  say, 
to  be  sure,  I  was  thinking  of  a  book  I  had  been 
reading.  Once,  in  this  mood,  I  came  very  near 
swallowing  my  cup  and  saucer ;  and  another  time 
was  upon  the  very  point  of  taking  down  a  punch- 


THE    YOUNG    DECL AIMER.  123 

bowl,  that  held  a  gallon.  Now,  if  I  could  fairly 
have  gotten  them  down,  they  would  not  have  hurt 
me  a  jot ;  for  my  mind  is  capacious  enough  for  a 
china  shop.  There  is  no  choking  a  man  of  my 
reading.  Why,  if  my  mind  can  contain  Genii  and 
Giants,  sixty  feet  high,  and  enchanted  castles,  why 
not  a  punch-bowl,  and  a  whole  tea  board  ? 

It  was  always  conjectured  that  I  should  be  a  mon- 
strous great  man ;  and  I  believe,  as  much  as  I  do 
the  Spanisli  war,  that  I  shall  be  a  perfect  Brobdig- 
nag  in  time. 

Well  now,  do  you  see,  when  I  have  read  a  book^ 
I  go  right  off  into  the  company  of  the  ladies  ;  for 
they  are  the  judges  whether  a  man  knows  anything 
or  not.  Then  I  bring  on  a  subject  which  will  show 
my  parts  to  the  best  advantage ;  and  I  always  mind 
and  say  a  smart  thing  just  before  I  quit. 

You  must  know,  moreover,  that  I  have  learned  a 
great  deal  of  wit.  I  was  the  first  man  who  invent- 
ed all  that  people  say  about  cold  tongues,  and  warm 
tongues,  and  may-bees.  I  invented  the  wit  of  kiss- 
ing the  candle-stick  when  a  lady  ho?ds  it ;  as  also 
the  plays  of  criminal  and  cross  questioi! ;  and  above 
all,  I  invented  the  wit  of  paying  toll  at  bi-idges.  In 
short,  ladies  and  gentlemen,  take  me  all  in  aU> .(  am 
a  downright  curious  fellow. 


124  THE    YOUNG   DECLAIMER. 


Boys'  Pockets. 
Did  you  ever  turn  a  boy's  pockets  "  inside  out " 
and  examine  the  contents  ?  "  Oh  my !  what  a  col- 
lection !"  An  old  junk  shop  isn't  a  circumstance  to 
a  boy's  pocket.  Here  you  will  find  huttcns  and 
cordy  nails,  cards,  spools,  tops,  hits  of  tin,  glass  and. 
leather  —  slate  pencils,  nut  shells,  Jews' -harps,  and  a 
pretty  good  sprinkling  of  cake  crumbs  —  all  in  a 
muddle.  And  then  again  notice  the  affection  a  boy 
has  for  this  medley  of  the  pocket !  He  watches 
them  as  a  miser  does  his  gold.  If  his  jacket  or  in- 
expressibles have  a  rent  in  them — and  you  know 
they  do  occasionally — and  they  are  taken  for  repairs, 
what  a  flutter  the  owner  is  in  lest  some  of  his 
precious  articles  get  lost !  O  dear  !  what  a  time ! 
Every  identical  tiling  must  be  turned  upon  the  car- 
petr— crumbs  included — (much  to  Betty's  annoyance) 
and  the  choicest  ones  culled  out.  But  he  never  has 
anything  to  be  thrown  away ;  — not  he — so  there's 
not  much  left  for  Betty's  benefit,  except  the  afore- 
named crumbs — and  she  never  fails  to  grumble  over 
them,  and  then  she  votes  boys  a  nuisance  generally. 
Tommy  takes  it  all  very  calmly  if  his  pocket  treas- 
ures are  only  secured.  A  slight  scolding  does  not 
trouble  him  in  the  least,  and  he  always  goes  off 
whistling  briskly  to  show  his  manly  independence. 
But  if  anybody  steals  a  march  on  him,  and  relieves 
his  pockets  of  their  extra  lading,  it  alters  the  case 


THE    YOUNG    DECLAIMER.  125 

amazingly,  Then,  look  out  for  a  storm.  It's  not 
the  least  use  in  the  world  to  tell  him  they're  not 
good  for  anything — for  doesn't  he  know  better — and 
doesn't  he  want  to  use  every  one  of  them — some- 
time ?  So  there  is  no  peace  until  they  are  all  forth- 
coming, and  his  much  abused  pockets  are  refilled. 
Oh  boys  !  boys  !  what  rude  remnants  of  barbarism 
ye  are !  ever  opposed  to  law  and  order,  and  wild  as 
unbroken  colts  ; — 

Noisy,  breezy,  free  and  easy, 

Full  of  fancy,  full  of  fun ; 
Care  for  mother,  teasing  brother, 

"  Born  to  trouble  "  every  one. 


Let  us  be  Friendly. 

Dear  Schoolmates,  let  us  not  forget  that  we  are 
like  members  of  one  large  family.  We  are  sent 
here  daily  by  our  kind  parents,  that  we  may  learn 
those  things  which  we  shall  need  to  know  when  we 
become  men.  Our  lessons  may  sometimes  be  hard, 
but  if  we  are  diligent  and  patient  we  shall  surely 
learn  them.  As  we  spend  many  hours  in  every  day 
in  this  school-room  we  ought  to  do  all  in  our  power 
to  make  it  pleasant  for  each  other  and  pleasant  for 
our  dear  teacher. 

Soon  our  school-days  will  be  over,  and  if  we  live, 
we  shall  be  men  and  women  in  the  community. 
What  kind  of  men  and  women  we  shall  be  depends 


126  THE    YOUNG   DECLAIMER. 

very  much  upon  how  we  spend  our  time  and  im- 
prove our  privileges  while  members  of  this  school. 

Let  us  remember  that  each  day  has  its  own  les- 
sons and  try  to  learn  them  well. 

But  most  of  all  let  us  strive  to  form  good  habits, 
and  to  be  kind  to  each  other.  Let  us  always  delight 
to  promote  each  other's  happiness  by  doing  kind 
acts  and  speaking  pleasant  words. 

"  Schoolmates,  do  you  love  each  other  1 
Are  you  always  kind  and  and  true  ? 

Do  you  always  do  to  others 
As  you'd  have  them  do  to  youl 

Are  you  gentle  to  each  other  ? 

Are  you  careful,  day  by  day, 
Not  to  give  oifence  by  actions. 

Or  by  anything  you  say  ? 

My  dear  schoolmates,  love  each  other. 

Never  give  another  pain  ; 
If  your  seat-mate  speak  in  anger. 

Answer  not  in  wrath  again. 

Be  not  selfish  to  each  other ;     . 

Never  spoil  another's  rest ; 
Strive  to  make  each  other  happy, 

And  you  will  yourselves  be  blest/* 


The  Blessing's  of  Sigrht. 
Schoolmates,  do  we  often  enough  think  of  the 
many  blessings  for  which  we  ought  to  be  thankful 
to  our  Heavenly  Father  ?     We  enjoy  many  privi- 


THE    YOUNG    DECLAIMEK.  •      127 

leges  and  blessings,  but  how  seldom  do  we  think  of 
Him  who  gives  them  to  us ! 

How  much  we  enjoy  from  the  sense  of  sight! 
But  do  we  often  enough  think  of  those  deprived  of 
it,  and  how  we  should  feel  if  we  were  denied  the 
use  of  it  ?  Let  us  go  to  some  asylum  for  the  blind. 
There  we  shall  find  boys  and  girls,  no  larger  than 
we  are,  who  cannot  see  a  particle.  They  cannot 
see,  and  have  never  seen,  father  or  mother,  brother 
or  sister.  They  cannot  see,  and  never  have  seen? 
the  sky  or  the  clouds — or  the  beautiful  flowers  and 
merry  birds.  All  this  bright  world  is  a  great  black 
space  to  them.  As  it  were,  they  are  shut  up  in  a 
dark  closet  all  the  time.  They  cannot  read  as  we 
do.  They  must  have  books  with  great  raised  letters, 
that  they  may  feel  them  with  their  fingers.  They 
must  study  their  lessons  with  their  fingers.  When 
they  walk,  they  must  feel  their  way  carefully,  lest 
they  run  against  something. 

But  we,  dear  schoolmates,  could  always  see,  and 
how  thankful  we  ought  to  be  for  it.  We  have 
always  had  the  most  beautiful  picture  gallery  before 
us,  and  yet  how  little  of  gratitude  we  have  felt  or 
expressed !  Let  us  never  retire  to  our  beds  at  night 
without  thanking  our  good  Father  in  heaven  for  the 
blessing  of  sight. 


PART  III. -DIALOGUES. 


Conduct. 

William.  Well,  friend  Henry,  I  am  real  glad  to 
see  you,  for  I  have  wanted  to  talk  with  you  about 
school  matters. 

Henry.  What  is  the  trouble  now,  William  ?  I 
shall  be  glad  to  hear  what  you  have  to  say. 

William.  I  have  been  thinking  that  our  teacher 
has  too  much  to  say  about  our  conduct — and  espec- 
ially about  our  deportment  out  of  school.  If  we 
study  well  in  school  and  learn  our  lessons,  I  think 
we  should  be  allowed  to  do  as  we  please  afterward. 

Henry.  I  cannot  quite  agree  with  you,  William. 
Our  deportment  is  of  great  consequence.  Our 
teacher  wishes  us  to  behave  well  because  it  is  for 
our  good  that  we  should  do  so.  If  we  conduct  our- 
selves properly,  we  shall  not  only  be  more  happy 
ourselves  but  we  shall  make  our  friends  happier. 
What  are  some  of  the  things  that  you  object  to, 
William  ? 

William.  Why,  she  wishes  us  to  be  civil  and 
orderly  in  the  street ;  to  use  no  language  that  we 
(128) 


THE     YOUNG    DECLAIMER.  129 

should  be  unwilling  to  have  our  mothei*s  hear,  and 
to  answer  every  one  poHtely  and  kindly. 

Henry,  Why,  William,  I  hope  you  do  not  object 
to  these  things.  If  you  do  I  cannot  agree  with 
you.  Our  teacher  wishes  us  to  be  particular  in 
these  matters  because  it  is  right  for  us  to  be  so. 
Now,  honestly,  friend  William,  do  you  not  think  our 
teacher  is  right  ? 

William.  Perhaps  she  is  right  and  reasonable — 
but  I  must  say  I  like  to  do  as  I  please  when  I  am 
out  of  school. 

Henry,  We  all  like  to  do  as  we  please,  but 
ought  it  not  to  please  us  best  to  do  what  is  right  ? 
If  so,  we  can  please  our  teacher  and  parents  at  the 
same  time.  We  certainly  ought  to  try  to  be  good 
and  to  do  good — ought  we  not  ? 

William.  Why — yes  —  but  then  I  like  to  have 
my  own  way. 

Henry.  Very  well,  you  can  have  your  own  way, 
and  if  that  way  is  a  good  way  you  will  be  happy  in 
it ;  but  if  it  is  a  bad  way  you  will  not  only  be  un- 
happy yourself,  but  you  will  make  others  unhappy 
also.  There  is  Dick  Lawless  who  has  his  own  way 
to  perfection;  he  uses  wicked  and  improper  language, 
runs  after  carriages  in  the  street,  answers  people 
rudely,  and  is  uncivil  to  everybody  —  and  no  one 
likes  him.  Now  do  5^ou  wish  to  imitate  his  exam- 
ple, and  to  be  like  him  ? 

William.     Why,  no,  Henry,  I  cannot  say  that  J 


130  THE    YOUNG    DECLAIMEE. 

do  in  all  respects.  I  certainly  would  not  wish  to 
use  improper  language. 

Henry,  I  am  glad  to  bear  you  say  so  muchy 
William.  I  am  sure  if  you  will  properly  reflect 
on  the  subject  you  will  find  that  our  teacber  is  about 
right,  and  that  she  is  one  of  our  very  best  friends. 
Will  you  not  think  of  this  ? 

William.  Yes,  Henry,  I  will.  I  confess  I  have 
not  thought  much  about  it,  and  what  you  have  said 
makes  me  think  that  I  have  not  felt  quite  right,  nor 
acted  quite  right.  I  thank  you  for  your  friendly 
talk,  and  I  certainly  will  consider  what  you  have 
said.     Good-bye. 

Henry,     Good-bye. 


Boys'  Rights, 

Amos.  Will,  have  you  read  what  Mr.  Beecher 
says  about  boys  ? 

William.  Yes!  that  I  have!  We  gave  him 
three  times  three  for  it.  Didn't  he  take  up  the 
cudgel  finely ! 

Frederic.  Three  times  three !  indeed ;  we  gave 
him  nine  times  nine !  and  Walton  says  he  has  a 
more  just  appreciation  of  boys  than  anybody  in  the 
world,  excepting^  my  mother,  and  you  know  every 
one  calls  her  "  boy-protector." 

Amos.  YeS'I  and  all  the  boys  like  her,  big  and 
litUe. 


THE   YOUNa   DECLAIMER.  131 

Frederic.  That's  because  she  likes  boys  as  well 
as  she  does  girls ;  and  other  ladies  donH,  you  know. 
They  always  invite  the  girls  to  the  weddings  and 
parties. 

William.  Yes,  and  when  people  write  to  my 
mother,  to  make  them  a  visit  in  the  country,  they 
always  say,  "Bring  one  or  two  of  the  girls  with 
you."    The  boys  of  cgurse,  are  welcome  to  stay  away ! 

Frederic.  I  know  it.  Will ;  the  ladies  say  boys 
are  so  rude  ;  and  I  think  they're  rude  only  because 
they  know  the  ladies  dislike  them,  and  they  think 
that's  unjust. 

William.  So  it  is,  Fred ;  boys  are  never  nide  to 
your  mother.  They  couldn't  be.  She  always  speaks 
so  kindly  to  them,  and  appears  to  have  respect  for 
them,  and  for  what  they  like. 

Frederic.  So  she  has !  We  always  expect  her 
to  take  a  share  in  all  we  do.  We  talk  to  her  about 
our  books,  and  tell  her  all  our  fun,  and  all  our 
troubles,  too,  and  she  thinks  as  much  about  them  as 
if  we  were  grown  up,  and  don't  call  them  trifles. 

William.  I  know  it ;  I  like  to  be  at  your  house 
better  than  anywhere  else. 

Frederic.  Mother  often  invites  boys  to  stay  there, 
and  they  always  make  friends  with  her.  They're 
all  kind  to  her,  and  try  to  please  her. 

Amos.  To  be  sure  they  do ;  they  couldn't  help 
it  if  they  tried. 

Frederic,     She   says   boys   are   a    much-abused 


132  THE    YOUNG    DECLAIMER. 

race,  and  that  they  have  rights  that  ought  to  be  re- 
spected. 

William.  So  they  have  !  and  it  is  too  bad  to  be 
treated  as  all  those  little  fellows  were  the  other 
night.  They  went  a  whole  hour  too  early,  and  sat 
waiting  in  that  hot  room,  so  as  to  get  a  front  seat 
where  they  could  see  Mr.  Curtis,  and  hear  him  well. 
Some  ladies  and  gentlemen  came  too  late,  after  he 
had  begun  to  lecture,  and  the  boys  were  turned  out 
of  their  seats  and  placed  where  they  could  not  see 
him  at  all. 

Frederic.  Mother  saw  it.  She  said  she  would 
not  have  taken  the  seat  and  spoiled  the  pleasure  of 
the  little  fellows ;  or,  if  one  had  willingly  given  her 
his  seat,  she  would  have  held  him  on  her  lap.  But 
hasn't  Mr.  Beecher  a  good  notion  of  what  boys 
like  ?     He  doesn't  forget  he  was  a  boy  once. 

Amos.  No,  that  he  don't,  and  we  boys  will  not 
forget  him.  We  will  call  him  "  the  boys'  friend," — 
or  the  "  advocate  of  boys'  rights." 


The  Irish  Servant. 

Patrick.  [  Taking  off  his  hat  and  bowing.']  An' 
plaze  yer  honor,  would  ye  be  after  giving  employ- 
ment to  a  faithful  servant,  who  has  been  rekimmend- 
ed  to  call  upon  yer  honor  ? 

Gentleman.     What  may  I  call  your  name  ? 

Patrick.     My  name  is  Patrick  Lynch,  and  I  have 


THE    YOUNG   DECLAIMER.  133 

always  been  called  Pat,  and  you  are  at  liberty  to 
call  me  that  same. 

Gent     Well^  Pat,  who  was  your  last  master  ? 

Patrick.  Mr.  Jacobs,  plaze  yer  honor;  and  a 
nicer  man  never  brathed. 

Gent.     How  long  did  you  live  with  Mr.  Jacobs  ? 

Patrick.  In  troth,  sir,  I  can't  tell.  I  passed  my 
time  so  pleasant  in  his  sarvice  that  I  niver  kept  any 
account  of  it,  at  all,  at  all.  I  might  have  lived  with 
him  all  the  days  of  my  life,  and  a  great  deal  longer, 
if  I  had  plazed  to  do  so. 

Gent.     Why,  then,  did  you  leave  him  '^. 

Patrick.  It  was  by  mutual  agrament.  The 
truth  was,  we  didn't  just  agree,  and  he  said  I  should 
not  live  with  him  longer ;  and  at  the  same  instant, 
you  see,  I  declared  I  would  not  live  with  him ;  so 
we  parted  on  good  terms  ;   by  agrament,  you  see. 

Gent.     Well,  Pat,  how  old  are  you  now  ? 

Patrick.  I  am  just  the  same  age  of  Patrick  O' 
Leary.     He  and  I  were  born  the  same  wake. 

Gent.     And  how  old  is  he  ? 

Patrick.  He  is  jist  my  age.  He  and  I  are  jist 
of  an  age,  you  see,  only  one  of  us  is  older  than  the 
other  ;  but  which  is  the  oldest  I  cannot  say,  neither 
can  Patrick. 

Gent.     Were  you  born  in  Dublin  ? 

Patrick.  No,  sir,  plaze  yer  honor,  though  I  might 
have  been,  if  I  had  desired  ;  but,  as  I  always  pre- 
ferred the  country,  I  was  born  there;  and,  plaze 


134  THE    YOUNG    DECLAIMER. 

God,  if  I  live  and  do  well,  I'll  be  buried  in  the  same 
parish  I  was  born  in. 

Gent.     You  can  write,  I  suppose. 

Patrick.     Yes,  sir ;  as  fast  as  a  dog  can  trot. 

Gent.  What  is  the  usual  mode  of  traveling  in 
Ireland  ? 

Patrick.  Why,  sir,  if  you  travel  by  water,  you 
must  take  a  boat ;  and,  if  you  travel  by  land,  it  must 
be  either  in  a  chaise  or  on  horseback;  and  they 
who  cannot  afford  either,  must  trudge  on  foot,  which, 
to  my  mind,  is  decidedly  the  safest  and  chapest 
mode  of  moving  about. 

Gent.  And  which  is  the  pleasantest  season  for 
traveling  ? 

Patrick.  Faith,  sir,  when  a  man  has  most  money 
in  his  pocket. 

Gent.     I  think  your  roads  are  passably  good. 

Patrick.  And  ye  may  well  say  that,  yer  honor, 
if  5^ou  only  pay  the  toll-man. 

Gent  I  understand  you  have  many  black  cattle 
in  Ireland. 

Patrick.     Faith,  we  have  plenty  of  every  color. 

Gent.  I  think  you  have  too  much  rain  in  your 
country  ? 

Patrick.  Yes,  yer  honor ;  but  Sir  Boyle,  bless 
his  soul,  has  promised  to  bring  in  an  act  of  parlia- 
ment in  favor  of  fair  weather.  It  was  he  that  first 
proposed  that  every  quart  bottle  should  hold  jist 
two  pints. 


THE    YOUNG    DECL AIMER.  135 

Genu  As  you  have  many  fine  rivers,  I  suppose 
you  have  an  abundance  of  nice  fish. 

Patrick.  And  well  may  you  say  that ;  for  water 
never  wet  better  ones.  "Why,  master,  I  won't  tell 
you  a  lie ;  but,  if  you  were  at  the  Boyne,  you  could 
get  salmon  and  trout  for  nothing  ;  and,  if  you  were 
at  Ballyshanny,  you'd  get  them  for  much  less. 

Gent.  Well  you  seem  to  be  a  clever  fellow,  and, 
if  you  will  call  again  to-morrow,  I  will  see  what  I 
cr.n  do  for  you. 

Patrick,  I  will,  yer  honor.  Pace  to  your  good 
sowl. 


Doing:  Bigrht. 

George.  I  will  never  play  with  Charlie  Mason 
again,  for  he  is  a  naughty  boy  and  I  don't  love  him. 

John.  What  now,  George  ?  I  thought  j^ou  and 
Charlie  were  great  friends. 

George.  And  so  we  have  been,  but  we  shall  not 
he  any  longer.  He  caught  my  new  ball  and  ran 
away  with  it. 

John.     But  why  did  he  do  so  ? 

George.  Why,  we  were  playing,  and  he  asked 
me  to  let  him  take  it.  I  told  him  I  did  not  like  to 
lend  it,  and  pretty  soon  when  it  bounced  over  his 
way  he  caught  it  and  ran  home  with  it. 

John.  Well,  it  was  wrong  for  Charlie  to  take  it 
in  that  way.  But  if  he  had  a  new  ball,  would  you 
not  like  to  take  it  for  a  while .' 


136  THE    YOUNG   DECLAIMER. 

George,     Certainly,  I  would. 

John.  And  don't  you  think  he  would  let  you 
take  it  ? 

George,  Why,  yes,  I  guess  so  j  for  Charlie  is  a 
very  good  boy  sometimes. 

John.  Well,  George,  do  you  remember  that  the 
golden  rule  says  we  must  do  to  others  as  we  would 
like  to  have  them  do  to  us?  You  say  that  you 
would  much  like  to  play  with  Charlie's  ball,  and  yet 
you  are  not  willing  he  should  play  with  yours. 
This  is  not  doing  as  you  would  be  done  by.  You 
have  both  done  wrong. 

George.  But  Charlie  has  my  ball,  and  he  has  no 
right  to  keep  it. 

John.  Well,  he  will  return  it  to  you  soon,  I  have 
no  doubt. 

George.  He  had  no  right  to  take  it,  and  surely 
he  did  not  do  to  me  as  he  would  have  me  do  to  him. 

John.  I  suppose  he  did  not  consider  anything 
about  it, — any  more  than  you  did  in  not  leltng  him 
play  with  you.  But  don't  you  remember  how  kind 
Charlie  was,  a  short  time  ago,  when  he  had  his  new 
balloon  ?     Did  you  not  play  with  it  ? 

George.  O  yes !  and  I  let  it  blow  away  into  a 
big  tree,  and  Patrick  could  not  get  it  again. 

John.     And  did  Charlie  cry  about  it  ? 

George.  No,  but  he  was  very  sorry,  and  so  was  I. 
I  took  the  money  uncle  gave  me  and  bought  some 
paper,  and  sister  Mary  made  him  a  new  balloon. 


THE    YOUNG   DECLAIMER.  137 

John.  And  did  you  not  feel  happy  when  you 
carried  it  to  him  ?  And  was  not  Charlie  very  glad 
to  have  it  ? 

George,  Yes,  indeed,  he  was,  and  he  has  it  now, 
and  sometimes  we  play  with  it. 

John.  That  was  doing  right.  You  lost  his  bal- 
loon and  gave  him  another. 

George.  If  Charlie  loses  my  ball  do  you  think 
he  will  do  right  and  bring  me  another  ? 

John.  Certainly,  he  will,  if  he  is  a  good  boy,  as 
I  think  he  is. 

(Enter  Charlie.) 

Charlie.  Here  is  your  ball,  George.  I  did  wrong 
to  take  it  away,  and  I  am  very  sorry  I  did  so.  I 
hope  you  will  forgive  me. 

George.  O,  certainly,  I  will;  and  I  am  very 
sorry  I  refused  to  let  you  take  the  ball.  I  will  try 
to  be  better  hereafter,  and  practice  the  golden  rule. 

Charlie.  That's  just  what  I  mean  to  do  : — so  we 
will  be  good  friends — as  we  always  have  been. 


About  School. 
Henry.     William,  I  am  glad  to  see  you,  for  I 
want  to  have  a  little  talk  with  you  about  our  school. 
Don't  you  think  we  have  a  very  good  teacher,  and  a 
very  pleasant  school  ? 

William.  No,  I  am  sure  I  do  not.  I  perfectly 
hate  school  and  all  that  belongs  to  it.  I  might  like 
it  well  enough  if  we  had  a  different  teacher. 


138  THE    YOUNG    DECLAIMER. 

Henry,  Why,  William,  how  can  you  speak  so  ! 
For  my  part  I  think  we  have  a  very  kind  and  faith- 
ful teacher.     I  am  sure  she  tries  hard  to  teach  us. 

William.  Well,  perhaps  she  does  ;  but  she  is  so 
very  particular  and  strict  that  we  cannot  have  a  bit 
of  fun. 

Henry.  We  do  not  come  to  school  for  the  sake 
of  fun,  but  we  come  to  learn  those  lessons  which 
will  prepare  us  to  "  act  well  our  parts  in  life." 

William.  It  may  be  well  enough  to  learn  some 
lesiOns,  but  what  is  the  use  of  being  so  very  strict 
and  particular  ?  I  can't  see  any  harm  in  whispering 
and  laughing,  but  if  I  only  speak  a  word  the  teacher 
gives  me  a  check  and  I  have  to  stay  after  school. 

Henry.  But  you  must  remember,  friend  William, 
that  we  cannot  work  and  play  at  the  same  time.  It 
we  wish  to  study  and  learn  our  lessons,  it  is  very 
important  that  we  have  a  quiet  school  room.  If  all 
the  pupils  should  do  as  you  wish  to  do,  and  whisper 
and  laugh  whenever  they  pleased,  we  could  not  leam 
anything.  Our  teacher  is  particular  for  our  good, 
and  not  for  the  sake  of  troubling  us.  Would  you 
really  like  to  attend  school  where  the  teacher  would 
allow  the  pupils  to  do  as  they  please  ?  Would  not 
such  a  school  be  all  in  confusion  ? 

William.  It  might  be  all  confusion,  but  it  would 
suit  me  well  enough.     I  like  to  have  a  lively  time. 

Henry.  So  do  I  like  to  have  a  lively  time,  but 
not  at  an  improper  time,  nor  in  the  wrong  place. 


THE    YOUNG   DECLAIMER.  139 

Our  parents  and  friends  furnish  us  with  a  good 
school,  and  give  us  the  time  to  attend  the  same, — 
not  that  we  may  play,  but  that  we  may  learn.  Now, 
William,  do  you  think  it  is  treating  them  properly 
if  we  spend  our  time  in  the  school-room  in  laughing 
and  playing  ?  Are  we  not  ungrateful,  to  say  the 
least  ? 

William.  I  had  not  thought  of  that  before,  and 
I  must  confess  that  it  is  not  quite  right  to  waste  or 
misuse  our  time,  as  I  have  done.  I  thank  you,  Hen- 
ry, for  your  kind  words,  and  I  hope  I  shall  do  bet- 
ter in  the  future.     Certainly,  I  will  try  to  do  so. 

Henry.  Good  for  you,  William,  and  if  you  will 
only  persevere  you  will  find  our  school  and  teacher 
all  right,  and  you  will  enjoy  coming  to  school  as  you 
have  never  done  before. 


Don't  Be  too  Positive. 

Sarah.  Mother,  may  I  go  and  spend  this  after- 
noon with  Mary  Smith  ? 

Mother.  How  do  you  know  she  will  be  at  home, 
and  that  she  will  wish  to  see  you  ? 

Sarah.  Because,  mother,  she  asked  me  to  come, 
and  said  she  should  be  at  home  and  that  we  would 
have  a  nice  time. 

Mother.     When  did  she  ask  you,  Sarah  ? 

Sarah.     Yesterday — yes,  yesterday  afternoon. 


140  THE    YOUNG   DECLAIMER. 

Mother,  Are  you  sure,  my  daughter,  that  it  was 
yesterday  ? 

Sarah,  Yes,  mother,  I  am  sure.  I  saw  her  on 
the  green,  near  the  school-house.  We  had  quite  a 
pleasant  talk,  and  I  am  certain  it  was  yesterday  — 
just  as  certain  as  can  be.  Why,  mother,  how  could 
I  be  mistaken  ?  I  know  it  was  yesterday,  —  and  in 
the  afternoon — soon  after  dinner. 

Mother,  That  cannot  have  been,  Sarah,  for  I 
have  just  come  from  Mrs.  Smith's,  and  she  told  me 
that  Mary  went  to  Boston  on  the  morning  train  yes- 
terday, 

Sarah.  Oh  !  well,  —  come  to  think  of  it,  it  was 
not  yesterday,  but  day  before.  Yes,  now  I  remem- 
ber, mother,  it  was  day  before  yesterday.  She  was 
going  to  Boston  in  the  morning  and  return  in  the 
afternoon. 

Mother.  Well,  my  child,  I  am  very  sorry  to  see 
you  so  very  certain — so  positively  sure,  when  really 
you  are  not  sure,  but  wrong  in  your  impression. 
You  must  learn  to  be  more  careful.  I  shall  let  you 
go  and  see  Mary,  and,  as  you  walk  along,  reflect 
upon  your  error,  and  hereafter  be  very  careful  and 
not  be  too  positive. 

Sarah,  Thank  you,  mother;  I  will  not  forget 
what  you  say. 


THE    YOUNG   DECLAIMER.  "    141 


Fortune  Tellingr. 

George.  I  wish  I  had  a  book  which  they  sell  at 
the  stores  for  telling  one's  fortune. 

William.  O  !  so  do  I.  They  say  they  are  very 
nice  indeed,  and  that  from  them  you  can  learn  what 
your  fate  will  be.     It  will  tell  all  about  our  future. 

George.  That  is  so,  —  and  I  mean  to  get  one  as 
soon  as  I  have  money  enough,  —  and  then  I  can 
learn  what  my  luck  is  to  be. 

Amos.  Why,  boys,  I  have  a  book  that  will  tell 
your  fortunes,  and  very  correctly,  too. 

George.  You  have  one  ?  Why  did  you  not  tell 
us  before  ?  Where  is  it  ?  Do  let  us  see  it.  I 
am  quite  impatient  to  know  what  my  fortune  is  to 
be. 

Amos.     Well,  I  will  let  you  see  mine,  sometime 

William.  And  will  it  really  tell  what  will  come 
to  pass,  Amos,  or  are  you  only  fooling  us  ? 

Amos.  What  it  says  may  be  relied  on,  —  and  it 
will  tell  us  what  will  come  to  pass. 

George.  But  how  do  you  know  that  ?  You  have 
not  lived  long  enough  to  know  if  it  has  told  your 
fortune  right. 

Amos.  Not  mine,  it  may  be  true,  yet.  But  it  is 
a  very  old  book.  My  grandfather  owned  it,  and  he 
said  it  told  the  truth,  and  my  father  had  it  and  it 
proved  itself  true  to  him. 


142  THE    YOUNG   DECLAIMER. 

William.  Well,  now  that  beats  all  I  ever  heard. 
It  must  be  a  prize.  Why  don't  you  take  it  and  go 
around  telling  fortunes  ?  You  would  make  lots  of 
money. 

Amos.  But  I  am  afraid  people  would  be  slow  to 
believe  me,  even  though  I  should  predict  truly  con- 
cerning them. 

George.  Will  you  sell  it  to  me,  Amos  ?  If  you 
will  I  will  see  what  I  can  do  with  it. 

Amos.  I  cannot  sell  it.  It  was  a  present  from 
my  dear  father,  and  I  would  not  part  with  it  for 
any  sum. 

William.    Well,  you  will  let  us  see  it,  won't  you  ? 

Amos.  Certainly,  I  will,  and  I  can  tell  you 
where  you  may  get  one  like  mine. 

George.  Let  us  see  yours  first,  and  if  that  tells 
us  the  truth  we  will  buy  one  for  ourselves. 

Amos.    If  you  will  wait  here  a  few  minutes  I  will 
get  mine  and  read  some  of  it  to  you. 
(Goes  after  the  book.) 

William.  George,  I  can  hardly  wait  till  he  re- 
turns,—  but  I  suppose  he  will  not  be  gone  long. 
There,  —  he  comes  now,  with  the  book  in  his  hand. 

Amos.     This  is  the  book,  and  I  will  read  from  it, 
and  what  it  says  you  may  be  sure  will  come  to  pass. 
(Amos  reads.) 

"He  becometh  poor  that  dealeth  with  a  slack 
hand ;  but  the  hand  of  the  diligent  maketh  rich." 


THE    YOUNG   DECLAIMER.  143 

"  The  fear  of  the  Lord  prolongeth  days ;  but  the 
years  of  the  wicked  shall  be  shortened." 

"  There  shall  no  evil  happen  to  the  just ;  but  the 
wicked  shall  be  filled  with  mischief." 

^'  He  that  walketh  with  wise  men  shall  be  wise ; 
but  a  companion  of  foois  shall  be  destroyed." 

"  A  soft  answer  turneth  away  wrath ;  but  griev- 
ous words  stir  up  anger." 

''  He  that  covereth  his  sins  shall  not  prosper." 

"  A  wise  son  maketh  a  glad  father ;  but  a  foolish 
son  is  the  heaviness  of  his  mother." 

''  And  we  know  that  all  things  work  together  for 
good  to  them  that  love  God." 

All  these  and  many  other  predictions  are  in  the 
book,  and  they  have  always  proved  true  and  they 
always  will. 

William  and  George.  Do  tell  us  the  title  of  the 
book  that  we  may  get  one  for  ourselves. 

Amos,  It  is  called  "  The  Bible,"  —  and  if  you 
will  read  it  carefully,  you  will  find  it  is  the  best  for- 
tune telling  book  in  the  world:  —  indeed,  it  is  the 
only  reliable  one. 


Strict  Honesty. 

Sarah.     I  say,  Jane,  just  bring  me  a  sheet  of 
writing-paper,  will  you  ?    for  I  must  write  a  letter. 
Jane.     Where  am  I  to  find  it  ? 


144  THE   YOUNG   DECLAIMER. 

Sarah.  Why  there's  plenty  in  my  mistress's  let- 
ter-case in  the  parlor. 

Jane.    Yes ;  but  that  is  not  mine,  nor  yours  either. 

Sarah.  Well,  what  does  that  signify  ?  I  am  sure 
there  is  plenty  ;  my  mistress  will  never  miss  it ;  and 
what's  the  value  of  a  sheet  of  paper  ? 

Jane.  Why,  whether  my  mistress  should  miss  it 
or  not,  makes  no  difference  at  all.  It  is  not  mine, 
and  I  cannot  take  it ;  it  is  not  honest. 

Sarah.  Honest,  indeed !  Well,  I  never  was  sus- 
pected of  being  dishonest  in  my  life ;  and  I  lived 
four  years  in  my  last  place,  and  I  had  a  good  char- 
acter for  honesty  when  I  came  away,  and  I  never 
scrupled  to  take  a  trifle  of  that  kind  either. 

Jane.  It  seems  then  your  mistress  did  not  know 
that  these  trifles  were  taken,  or  perhaps  the  charac- 
ter she  gave  you  might  have  been  diiferent. 

Sarah.  Why,  as  to  that,  what  is  the  value,  I  say, 
of  a  sheet  of  paper  ?  My  mistress  can  afford  that 
well  enough,  I  warrant  you. 

Jane.  Why,  now,  it  seems  to  me  that  the  value 
of  the  thing  signifies  nothing  ;  the  question  is 
whether  it  is  mine,  or  whether  it  is  not ;  and  if  it  is 
not,  I  have  no  business  to  lay  a  finger  on  it.  Be- 
sides, I  look  upon  it,  that  when  we  take  a  little 
thing  because  we  think  it  will  not  be  missed,  it  is  a 
sign  that  we  only  keep  our  hands  from  greater 
things  because  we  think  they  will  be  missed. 


THE    YOUNG   DECL AIMER.  145 

Sarah,  Nay,  I  think  I  would  not  take  a  great 
thing  either. 

Jane.     Why  not? 

Sarah,     I  don't  know. 

Jane.  No  ;  but  depend  upon  it  that,  if  you  have 
a  right  principle,  it  will  keep  you  from  small  crimes 
as  well  as  great  ones.  You  remember  the  verse 
that  our  old  dame  taught  us  at  school : 

"  It  is  a  sin  to  steal  a  pin, 

Much  more  to  steal  a,  greater  thing." 

And  we  have  been  taught  to  keep  ^'our  hands  from 
picking  and  stealing."  And  though,  perhaps,  we 
may  do  these  things  without  being  seen,  that  does 
not  turn  wrong  into  right.  Besides,  those  who  do 
these  things,  always  take  care  to  do  them  when 
their  masters  and  mistresses  do  not  see  them. 
Now,  if  they  did  not  know  that  they  were  doing 
wrong,  they  would  not  be  ashamed  of  being  seen. 
We  may  be  pretty  sure  that,  when  we  are  afraid  of 
being  seen,  we  know  that  we  are  doing  what  we 
ought  not  to  do. 

Sarah.  Well,  I  believe  you  are  right ;  but  I  can- 
not help  often  thinking  that  you  are  too  particular. 
Why,  the  other  day,  when  a  few  little  sweet  cakes 
came  out  of  the  dining-room  after  dinner,  you  would 
not  as  much  as  give  me  one,  and  I  dare  say  you 
would  not  touch  one  yourself. 

Jane,     I  could  not  give  you  one,  Sarah,  for  they 


146  THE    YOUNG    DECLAIMEK. 

were  not  mine;  and,  for  the  same  reason,  I,  of 
course,  could  not  touch  one  myself. 

Sarah.  Why,  they  never  would  have  been 
missed ;  neither  master  nor  mistress  would  have 
counted  them.  If  I  had  thought  they  would,  I 
would  not  have  touched  one  for  the  world  ;  for  they 
never  would  have  believed  me  to  be  honest  again ; 
and,  with  a  servant,  character  is  everything. 

Jane.  Why,  to  be  sure,  to  a  servant  character  is 
a  great  thing  ;  but,  I  think,  principle  is  a  greater. 
If  we  forget  what  is  the  right  principle  to  act  upon, 
and  only  think  of  character,  I  doubt  not  there  will  be 
many  a  time  when  the  temptation  to  do  wrong  will 
lead  us  astray,  when  we  think  that  nobody  is  look- 
ing on ;  therefore  the  Scripture  rule,.  "  Thou,  God, 
seest  me,"  is  always  the  right  rule  in  great  things 
as  well  as  little. 

Sarah.  Why,  that  is  true,  to  be  sure.  And  as 
to  taking  a  little  cake  or  so,  I  do  remember  that 
Betty  Wilkins  took  one,  and  her  master  found  her 
out,  for  he  had  long  thought  that  the  little  things 
disappeared  by  degrees ;  and  so  he  really  did  count 
the  cakes  that  went  out  one  day  after  dinner,  and 
one  was  gone  ;  and  so  Betty,  who  had  the  care  of 
them,  was  found  out  and  turned  away.  The  master 
said  he  did  not  care  a  pin  about  the  value  of  the 
cake,  but  he  never  could  feel  comfortable  in  trust- 
ing anything  to  her  care  again. 

Jane.     Why,  I  think  every  master  must  feel  scu 


THE    YOUNG    DECLAIMER.  147 

Let  you  and  me,  Sarah,  always  keep  on  the  right 
side,  and  then  we  need  not  mind  who  sees  us.  Let ' 
us  be  careful  not  to  do  wrong,  and  then  we  need  not 
fear  being  found  out. 

Sarah.  I  know  your  advice  is  good,  Jane,  and  if 
we  were  all  to  keep  it,  it  would  be  much  better  for 
us,  and  we  should  be  much  happier ;  but,  you  know 
very  well  that  servants  do  a  hundred  little  things  that 
they  would  not  wish  their  masters  or  mistresses  to 
know  of. 

Jane.  I  know  very  well  that  a  truly  honest  ser- 
vant would  do  nothing  that  she  would  be  afi-aid  to 
have  known ;  and  whatever  others  may  do  is  no 
rule  at  all  to  us.  Our  rule  must  be  to  do  right,  and 
may  God's  grace  enable  us  to  walk  by  this  rule. 


♦  ♦» 


On  Langnagre. 

Mamma.     What  book  are  you  reading,  Charles  ? 

Charles.     Bingley's  Animal  Biography,  mamma. 

Mamma.  Show  me  what  part  you  were  reading; 
and  tell  me  if  you  quite  understand  it. 

Charles.     Nearly  all  of  it,  mamma. 

Mamma.  I  wish  you,  my  dear,  never  to  pass  over 
a  single  word  which  you  do  not  understand.  Always 
ask  for  an  explanation  of  it. 

Charles.  Here  is  the  place  in  the  book,  "  The 
Antelope  tribe." 


148  THE    YOUNG   DECLAIMER. 

Mamma.  We  will  take  this,  then,  for  our  lesson. 
Read  it,  Charles,  one  sentence  at  a  time. 

Charles.  "  The  antelopes  are,  in  general,  an  ele- 
gant and  active  tribe  of  animals,  inhabiting  moun- 
tainous countries,  where  they  bound  among  the 
rocks  with  so  much  lightness  and  elasticity,  as  to 
strike  the  spectator  with  astonisliment." 

Mamma.  Stop  there,  Charles.  What  is  the 
Antelope  ? 

Lucy.     An  animal. 

Mamma.     Of  what  class  ? 

Fanny.     A  quadruped. 

Mamma.  What  is  meant  by  saying,  "they  are 
in  general  active,  etc  ?" 

Charles.     That  they  are  most  commonly  so. 

Mamma.  You  are  right.  What  do  you  mean 
by  "elegant"? 

Charles.     Graceful,  well  made,  full  of  grace. 

Mamma.    Can  Lucy  tell  me  what  *  active'  means? 

Lucy.     Lively,  moving  about  a  great  deal. 

Mamma.     And  what  does  a  "  tribe ''  mean  ? 

Fanny.     A  class,  a  race  of  beings. 

Mamma.  Give  me  an  instance  by  which  this  can 
be  proved. 

Charles.  Oh,  mamma,  the  hymn  vre  transposed 
yesterday, 

Mamma.     What  part  of  speech  is  '  active  V 


'  Let  every  nation,  every  tribe 
On  this  terrestrial  ball/  etc. 


THE    YOUNG    DECL AIMER.  149 

Fanny.     An  adjectire. 

Mamma.  Lucy,  tell  me  what  your  sister  means 
by  an  adjective  ? 

Lucy.  A  word  added  to  a  noun,  to  show  its  qual- 
ity. 

Mamma.     Which  is  the  noun,  then,  here  ? 

Lucy.     '  Tribe,'  mamma. 

Mamma.     "What  does  '  an  animal,'  mean  ? 

Charles.     Any  living  thing. 

Mamma.  This  is  not  a  sufficiently  clear  defini- 
tion. 

Fanny.  No, — because  plants  are  alive ;  but  they 
are  quite  different  from  animals. 

Mamma,  What  distinguishes  an  animal  from  a 
plant  ? 

Charles.  The  one  can  move  itself  where  it 
pleases,  and  the  other  cannot. 

Mamma.  Yes ;  life  is .  distinguished  into  animal 
and  vegetable  life.  How  will  you  define  the  differ- 
ence between  them  ? 

Fanny.  Vegetable  life  is  shown  by  plants  grow- 
ing gradually  larger,  and  producing  seeds,  from 
which  other  plants  spring ;  and  animal  life  is  shown, 
as  Charles  said,  by  those  who  possess  it  being  able 
to  go  from  one  place  to  another. 

Mamma.  Yes,  and  by  what  is  called  volition, 
that  is,  the  exercise  of  will.  We  will  now  go  on. 
Explain  the  word  '  inhabiting.' 

Fanny.     Dwelling,  or  living,  or  existing  in. 


150  THE   YOUNG  DECLAIMER. 

Mamma,     *  Mountainous  countries.' 

Lucy.     Countries  full  of  mountains. 

Mamma,  What  would  be  the  opposite  to  a  moun- 
tainous country  ? 

Fanny.     A  flat  country. 

Mamma.     Give  me  another  word,  Charles. 

Charles.     A  level,  or  even  country. 

Mamma.     What  do  you  mean  by  '  a  country  ?' 

Lucy.     Land,  mamma. 

Mamma.  Your  papa  has  land,  has  he,  therefore, 
a  country  ? 

Lucy.     No,  he  has  not ;  his  is  only  an  estate. 

Mamma.  You  must  then  give  me  a  clearer  expla- 
nation of  the  word  country. 

Fanny.  A  large  tract  of  lani  joined  together, 
and  generally  containing  rivers  and  hills. 

Mamma.  That  is  better,  but  how  do  you  distin- 
guish this  from  a  county  ? 

Charles.  Oh,  a  county  is  much  smaller,  mamma, 
it  is  a  subdivision  of  a  country. 

Mamma.  These  antelopes  'bound;'  what  does 
that  mean  ? 

Fanny.     Jump,  spring,  leap. 

Mamma.     'Among  ?' 

Charles.  There  it  means,  about  and  between,  and 
upon.     I  do  not  know  one  word  that  will  express  it. 

Mamma.  I  think  I  know  one  beginning  with  A 
which  is  better  than  yours,  Charles. 

Fanny.     Amidst,  mamma :  am  I  right  ? 


THE    YOUNG    DECLAIMER.  151 

Mamma.  Yes,  Fanny.  What  am  I  to  under- 
stand by  *  a  rock  ?' 

Lucy.     A  very  high,  large  place. 

Mamma.  Then  our  house  is  a  rock,  Lucy,  it  is 
both  high  and  large  ? 

Lucy.  Oh,  no,  mamma;  a  rock  is  a  natural  thing, 
and  our  house  is  an  artificial  thing. 

Mamma.  Right,  my  dear  ;  I  am  glad  you  have 
remembered  the  meaning  of  those  words ;  but  if 
you  allow  yourself  time  to  think,  you  can  give  me  a 
clearer  idea  of  a  rock  than  you  have  done. 

Lucy.  It  is  high,  like  a  hill,  only  stony,  instead 
of  earthy. 

Mamma.  That  is  much  better,  Lucy ;  what  are 
its  qualities  ? 

Lucy.     Hard,  and  cold,  and  craggy,  and  sharp. 

Mamma.     What  does  '  lightness '  mean,  Lucy  ? 

Lucy.  I  suppose  it  means  that  it  does  not  jump 
heavily  and  awkwardly. 

Mamma.     Just  so  ;  now  for  '  elasticity  ?' 

Fanny,  It  means,  does  it  not,  that  it  springs  eas- 
ily? 

Mamma.  It  does  ;  an  elastic  thing,  when  bent, 
returns  easily  to  the  same  place  again.  Tell  me 
the  names  of  some  things  that  are  elastic  ? 

Lucy.     A  bow,  mamma. 

Mamma.     Now,  another  instance. 

Charles.     India  rubber. 


152  THE    YOUNG    DECLAIMER. 

Mamma,  That  is  a  very  good  illustration ;  think 
again. 

Fanny.     A  watch  spring. 

Mamma,     Now  another. 

Charles.  A  branch  of  a  tree ;  for,  if  you  bend 
it  down,  it  recovers  itself  instantly. 

Mamma.  Very  true.  Is  *to  strike'  a  noun, 
Lucy  ? 

Lucy.     No,  mamma,  a  verb. 

Mamma.     Why  so  ? 

Lucy.  Because  it  expresses  action.  To  strihe  is 
an  active  verb. 

Mamma.     And  its  meaning  is  to  give  a  blow  ? 

Fanny.  Sometimes,  mamma ;  but  in  this  instance 
it  means  to  make  a  person  feel  anything  suddenly. 
That  is  a  blow  to  the  mind,  is  it  not  ? 

Mamma,  You  are  right;  and  *  astonishment  * 
means — 

Charles.     Surprise,  wonder. 

Mamma,  And  '  a  spectator '  means — what  Fan- 
ny ? 

Fanny.     A  person  who  sees  anything  done. 

Mamma.     But  in  one  word,  my  dear  ? 

Fanny.     A  beholder ;  an  observer. 

Mamma.  We  have  now  got  at  the  meaning  of  all 
these  words ;  tell  me  what  you  have  understood  by 
the  sentence.     Of  what  is  it  speaking? 

Lucy.     Of  antelopes. 

Mamma.     What  description  is  given  of  them  ? 


THE    YOUNG    DECLAiMER.  153 

Fanny,     That  they  are  elegant  and  active. 

Mamma.  What  feeling  do  they  give  to  a  specta- 
tor? 

Lucy.    They  fill  him  with  wonder. 

Mamma.     Why  do  they  do  so  ? 

Charles.  Because  they  bound  about  the  rocks 
with  so  much  agility. 


Punctuality. 

Lizzie.     Good  morning,  Helen. 

Helen.  G,  Lizzie  !  I  am  so  glad  to  see  you  \  I 
did  not  know  whether  you  would  call  for  me  or  not. 
I've  asked  you  to  so  many  times,  and  you  never  did 
it. 

Lizzie.  Well,  I  promised  to  this  time,  if  you 
would  promise  to  be  ready.  I  always  keep  my  prom- 
ises, but  I  see  that  you  have  not  kept  yours. 

Helen.  G,  I  am  almost  ready.  I  have  only  my 
bonnet  and  cloak  to  put  on.  But  how  do  you  man- 
age to  come  along  so  early  in  the .  morning  ?  It  is 
not  ten  minutes  since  I  finished  my  breakfast. 

Lizzie.  It  is  not  ?  Why  we  had  our  breakfast 
an  hour  ago. 

Helen.     When  did  you  dress,  I'd  like  to  know  ? 

Lizzie.  I  dressed  before  breakfast.  That  is  the 
way  I  always  do.     Don't  you  ? 

Helen.  No,  indeed !  Gur  girl  won't  get  up  early 
enough ;  mother  always  tells  her  to  get  us  up  in  time 


164  THE    YOUNG    DECL AIMER. 

for  me  to  go  to  school,  but  she  don't  get  our  rcom 
warm  enough  for  us  to  be  up  before  the  breakfast- 
bell  rings,  and  then,  of  course,  I'm  not  ready  for 
school. 

Lizzie,  Yes,  I  suppose  she  has  a  fire  to  make  in 
your  room,  one  in  the  dining  room,  and  one  in  the 
kitchen ;  and  then,  when  she  gets  breakfast  ready, 
you  are  not  ready  to  eat  it.  I  do  not  think  it  is  her 
fault  if  you  are  late. 

Helen.  Well,  one  can't  get  up  in  a  cold  room 
these  freezing  mornings ; — but  where  are  you  going? 

Lizzie.  I  am  going  to  school,  or  I  shall  be  late 
too. 

Helen.  Wait  just  a  minute.  1  have  only  my 
gloves  to  put  on.  O,  yes !  and  there  is  my  library 
book !  I  do  believe  that  I  have  not  chosen  my  num- 
bers yet  for  another.  Come,  Lizzy,  sit  down  and 
write  them  off  for  me  while  I  find  my  gloves. 
There's  a  good  girl. 

Lizzie.  I  don't  know  what  to  write  for  you,  so 
it  would  be  of  no  use  to  wait.  And  then  you  have 
your  gloves  to  find,  and  your  rubbers  to  warm  and 
put  on,  and  your  cuffs ; — I  must  go  ;  good-bye  ! 

Helen.  O,  now,  Lizzy !  I  should  think  if  you 
loved  me  you  might  wait  just  a  minute ;  I  don't  like 
to  go  alone. 

Lizzie.  But,  Helen,  if  you  loved  me,  you  surely 
would  not  want  to  make  me  late  to  school, 
when  I  can't  do  you  any  good  by  waiting  ?     Just 


THE    YOUNG    DECLAIMER.  155 

think  how  you  would  like  to  be  kept  out  late,  after 
getting  up  so  early  and  trying  so  hard  to  be  in  sea- 
son. Now  you  must  not  be  angry  with  me  ;  I'll 
talk  it  all  over  with  you  some  other  time.  Good- 
bye. 

(Helen  retires.     Frances  comes  in.) 

Frances,  My  dear  Lizzy,  I'm  afraid  we  shall  be 
late. 

Lizzie.  So  am  I ;  but  I  really  could  not  help  it. 
And  I  am  afraid  that  my  dear  Helen  will  not  forgive 
me  for  not  waiting  still  longer  for  her. 

Frances.  Wait  for  her?  Why,  she  is  always 
late.     Does  she  want  to  make  you  late  too  ? 

Lizzie,  You  see,  Frances,  that  she  does  not  know 
how  pleasant  it  is  to  be  punctual.  She  is  not  there 
to  see.  I  would  not  miss  the  bright  smile  and  kiss 
of  my  teacher  for  anything. 

Frances.  Youf  teacher  kisses  those  that  come 
late  too,  doesn't  she  ? 

Lizzie.  Yes,  but  somehow  she  does  not  look  right 
into  their  eyes  so  sweetly,  nor  grasp  their  hands  so 
warmly.  O,  Frances,  I  do  think  that  I  have  the 
best  teacher  that  ever  lived. 

Frances.  Well,  my  teacher  is  not  always  there 
in  season ;  but  I  come  early  so  as  to  get  the  tickets. 
I  don't  believe  that  Helen  ever  gets  any  tickets. 

Lizzie.  No  ;  she  says  that  she  does  not  care  for 
them  ;  but,  for  my  part,  T  think  that  I  should  like  to 


156  THE    YOUNG   DECLAIMER 

come  early  if  my  teacher  did  not,  and  if  there  were 
no  tickets  given  out. 

Frances.  Well,  I  don't  know ;  I  don't  see  why 
you  should. 

Lizzie.  O,  I  always  feel  so  much  happier,  be- 
cause it  is  right.  I  feel  just  as  if  God  is  better 
pleased  with  me  if  I  am  in  season ;  and  though  I 
wanted  very  much  to  please  Helen  by  waiting  for 
her,  yet  I  thought  I  could  not  afford  to  displease 
God  for  the  sake  of  pleasing  her.  But  here  we  are 
at  school. 

Frances.  Well,  I  suppose  you  are  right ;  but 
here  we  are.  The  teacher  is  just  getting  up  to  read 
the  hymn.  In  a  minute  more  those  cards  would 
have  been  turned,  and  we  would  be  obliged  to 
to  read  the  odious  words,  "  I  am  late." 


Haugrhtiness  Rebuked. 

Thomas.  I  don't  see  why  it  is,  George,  that  you 
call  Colman  Cutler  the  best  boy  in  school. 

George.  Surely  he  is  the  best  scholar.  Who 
else  is  so  correct  in  his  lessons  and  so  prompt  in  his 
recitations  ?     He  never  fails, — and  is  always  ready. 

Thomas.  Ready  enough  it  may  be,  but  he  is  not 
always  at  the  head  of  his  class.  I  am  there  quite 
as  often  as  he  is. 

George.     Very  true.  —  you  are  there  sometimes, 


THE   YOUNG    DECLAIMER.  157 

but  how  do  you  get  there  ?  Is  it  by  hard  study, — 
or  because  you  take  a  sly  peep  into  your  book  ? 

Thomas.     Who  says  I  do  so  ? 

George.  Who  says  so  ?  Why,  don't  we  all  see 
you !  It  was  really  funny  the  other  day  to  hear 
you  answer  the  wrong  question, — and  we  could  not 
help  laughing  when  the  master  said  you  would  have 
done  nicely  had  it  happened  to  you  to  answer  the 
next  question.  Colman  got  above  you  that  day,  and 
he  will  not  very  soon  lose  the  place. 

Thomas.  That's  nothing.  It  does  not  prove  him 
to  be  the  best  scholar.  He  is  by  no  means  much  of 
a  gentleman. 

George.  A  school  boy  hardly  claims  to  be  much 
of  a  gentleman, — but  Colman  is  a  veiy  polite  and 
civil  boy.  He  is  always  very  kind,  and  ready  to 
do  a  good  act  for  any  of  his  schoolmates. 

Thomas.  What  of  that  ?  That  does  not  prove 
that  he  is  a  gentleman  or  a  gentlemanly  boy.  Just 
look  at  his  clothes — do  look  at  his  clothes !  No 
tailor  ever  made  them.  They  don't  fit  like  my 
clothes. 

George.  That's  a  good  one  !  As  if  the  set  of 
one's  clothes  made  the  gentleman. 

Thomas.  I  did  not  mean  the  set  alone ;  but  his 
clothes  are  coarse,  and  even  patched.  Just  look  at 
my  clothes  !  I  wear  the  best  cloth  of  any  boy  in 
school ; — and  I  carry  a  watch  too. 


158  THE    YOUNG    DECLAIMER. 

George.  And  hence  you  think  you  are  the  first 
scholar — hey,  Thomas? 

Thomas.  I  said  no  such  thing.  But  I  heartily 
despise  patched  clothes,  and  scorn  those  who  wear 
them. 

George.  Well  done  !  Then  you  must  scorn  me 
and  nearly  every  other  scholar  in  school.  But  I 
don't  care.  Nobody  can  play  much  without  having 
a  patch  now  and  then.  But,  Thomas,  let  us  go  and 
play  now. 

Thomas.  No,  George,  I  am  not  going  to  play : 
I  have  no  time  to  play ;  but  your  precious  Colman 
has  time  for  everything. 

Georgp.  That  is  very  true,  though  you  speak 
sneeringly.  He  knows  how  to  take  care  of  the 
minute^'.  Our  teacher  told  us  the  other  day  that  if 
we  took  care  of  the  minutes  we  should  have  time 
for  everything.  She  said  that  "  drops  make  the 
ocean,  and  minutes  make  the  years," — and  I  shall 
try  to  remember  it. 

Thomas.  You  can  remember  what  you  please. 
For  my  part,  I  do  not  care  to  remember  anything 
that  our  teacher  says, — or  that  you  say, — or  that 
your  friend  Colman  says  either. 

George.  Come,  Thomas,  don't  be  fretful.  Let 
us  go  upon  the  play-ground  and  have  a  good  time. 

Thomas,  Not  I.  You  don't  catch  me  playing 
with  boys  who  wear  patched  clothes. 

George,     Very  well,  if  you  prefer  not  to  go,  we 


THE    YOUNG   DECLAIMER.  159 

can  get  along  without  you.  I  trust  that  you  will  at 
some  time  learn  that  real  worth  and  goodness  may 
exist  under  patched  clothes  as  well  as  under  the 
richest  broadcloth.  Remember  that  worth  makes 
the  man — the  want  of  it,  the  fellow. 


On  Politeness. 

Martha.  Good  morning,  cousin  Mary.  I  am  glad 
to  see  you,  for  I  have  something  to  say  to  you. 
Julia  and  I  have  been  talking  very  earnestly  on  a 
subject,  and  we  became  almost  angry  because  we 
differed  in  opinion.  I  have  been  longing  to  see  you 
that  I  might  know  your  feelings  on  the  subject, — and 
I  am  quite  sure  you  will  be  on  "  my  side." 

Mary.  I  should  certainly  be  very  sorry  not  to 
agree  with  you.  I  believe  you  and  I  think  alike  on 
most  matters,  and  I  hope  we  may  now.  Pray 
what  subject  has  provoked  so  much  excited  feeling? 
Some  new  style  of  bonnet  or  dress,  I  imagine. 

Martha.  O  no !  cousin  Mary,  neither  of  these. 
We  have  been  talking  of  the  manners  of  two  of  our 
schoolmates — Sarah  AVilson  and  Jane  Smith.  Julia 
prefers  Sarah's  manners,  and  I  prefer  Jane's.  So 
there  we  differ.  Julia  thinks  Sarah  is  a  perfect  pat- 
tern of  propriety,  and  I  don't  think  so. 

Mary.     But  what  makes  Julia  think  so  ? 

Martha.  Because  Sarah  always  smiles  so  sweet- 
ly when  she  speaks ; — always  shakes  hands  with 


160  THE    YOUNG    DECLAIMER. 

people ;  flatters  them,  and  tells  them  of  compliments 
she  has  heard  of  them, — and  all  that  sort  of  thing. 

Mary.     Is  Sarah  the  same  to  all,  cousin  Martha  ? 

Martha.  Oh,  no  : — she  is  polite  only  to  a  certain 
set  of  people, — those  she  happens  to  fancy.  But 
Jane  is  just  the  same  to  all,— rich  or  poor.  I  think 
true  pohteness  requires  us  to  treat  all  with  respect 
and  courtesy.  Genuine  politeness  must  spring  from 
a  kind  and  generous  heart. 

Mary.  I  agree  with  you  there,  Martha.  This 
very  day  I  saw  illustrations  of  true  and  false  polite- 
ness. As  I  was  riding  in  the  omnibus  this  morning, 
there  were  two  well  dressed  young  men.  One  of 
them  was  very  polite  to  a  nicely  dressed  young  lady 
opposite  him.  If,  by  mere  accident,  he  touched  the 
hem  of  her  dress,  he  made  a  very  gracious  apology, 
and  the  other  passengers  evidently  regarded  him  as 
a  model  of  politeness.  The  other  young  man  was 
well  dressed  and  quiet.  Suddenly  the  omnibus 
stopped  to  take  in  an  old  lady  who  had  with  her  a 
large  bundle — and  as  the  carriage  was  crowded  she 
was  obliged  to  hold  the  bundle.  She  looked  feeble 
and  fatigued,  and,  as  the  last  named  young  man 
saw  her,  he  kindly  offered  to  take  her  bundle.  At 
this,  the  young  man  and  young  lady  first  named  ex- 
changed smiles  and  cast  contemptuous  glances  at 
the  young  man  with  the  bundle.  The  poor  woman 
evidently  noticed  their  conduct.  *  However,  she  did 
not  ride  far,  and  when  the  omnibus  stopped, — the 


THE    YOUNG    DECLAIMER.  161 

young  man  very  kindly  assisted  her  out,  and  with  as 
much  attention  as  though  she  had  been  a  lady  of 
high  rank.  I  was  greatly  pleased,  and  made  up  my 
mind  that  the  young  man  possessed  genuine  polite- 
ness. 

Martha,  Well,  now,  your  case  is  precisely  like 
mine.  I  think  Sarah  aims  to  be  polite  to  a  certain 
class  whom  she  regards  with  especial  favor,  while 
she  treats  others  very  coolly,  not  to  say  very  impo- 
litely. But  Jane  is  kind  and  pleasant  to  all,  and 
wherever  she  is  she  succeeds  in  making  those  around 
her  happy. 

Mary.  Yerj  well,  cousin  Martha,  I  now  under- 
stand your  position,  and  I  do  most  sincerely  agree 
with  you.  As  we  both  agree  that  Jane's  conduct  and 
manner  is  far  preferable,  let  us  both  try  to  take  her 
for  our  model.  One  who  is  truly  kind  and  polite  t(? 
all  must  enjoy  the  highest  kind  of  satisfaction,  for  such 
an  one  may  well  feel  that  he  is  acting  in  accordance 
with  the  wishes  of  our  good  Father  in  Heaven. 
Let  us  remember  that  true  politeness  comes  from 
the  better  and  nobler  impulses  of  our  natures  and 
requires  that  we  should  treat  all  with  kindness  and 
true  courtesy. 


Hard  to  Please. 
Mr.  Cross.     Why  do  you  keep  me  knocking  all 
day  at  the  door  ? 


162  THE    YOUNG    DECL AIMER. 

John,  I  was  at  work,  sir,  in  the  garden.  As 
soon  as  I  heard  your  knock,  I  ran  to  open  the  door 
with  such  haste  that  I  fell  down. 

Mr.  C.  No  great  harm  was  done  in  that  I  Why 
didn't  you  leave  the  door  open  ? 

Joh7i.  Why,  sir,  you  scolded  me  yesterday  be- 
because  I  did  so.  When  it  is  open,  you  scold ;  when 
it  is  shut,  you  scold.  I  should  like  to  know  what 
to  do. 

Mr.  O.    What  to  do  ?    What  to  do,  did  you  say  ? 

John.  I  said  it.  Would  you  have  me  leave  the 
door  open  ? 

Mr.  a     No. 

John.     Would  you  have  me  keep  it  shut. 

Mr.  a     No. 

John.     But,  sir,  it  must  be  either  open  or — 

Mr.  G.     Don't  presume  to  argue  with  me,  fellow? 

John.    But  doesn't  it  hold  to  reason,  that  a  door — 

Mr.  0.     Silence,  I  say  I 

Johii.  And  I  say  that  a  door  must  be  either 
open  or  shut.     Now,  how  will  you  have  it  ? 

Mr.  0.  I  have  told  you  a  thousand  times,  you 
provoking  fellow — I  have  told  you  that  I  wished 
it — but  what  do  you  mean  by  questianing  me,  sir  ? 
Have  you  trimmed  the  grape-vine,  as  I  ordered  you  ? 

John,     I  did  that  three  days  ago,  sir. 

Mr.  C.     Have  you  washed  the  carriage? 

John.     I  washed  it  before  breakfast,  sir,  as  usual. 


THE    YOUNG   DECLAIMER.  163 

Mr.  C,  You  idle,  negligent  fellow  ! — you  have'nt 
watered  the  horses  to-day  ! 

John.  Go  and  see,  sir,  if  you  can  make  them 
drink  any  more.     They  have  had  their  fill. 

Mr.  C     Have- you  given  them  their  oats! 

John.     Ask  William ;  he  saw  me  do  it. 

Mr.  O,  But  you  have  forgot  to  take  the  brown 
mare  to  be  shod.     Ah !  I  have  you  now  ! 

John.     I  have  the  blacksmith's  bill,  and  here  it  is. 

Mr.  G,  My  letters — Did  you  take  them  to  the 
post-office  ?     Ha !  You  forgot  that, — did  you  ? 

John.  Not  at  all,  sir.  The  letters  were  in  the 
mail  ten  minutes  after  you  handed  them  to  me. 

Mr.  C  How  often  have  I  told  you,  sir,  not  to 
scrape  on  that  abominable  violin  of  yours  ?  And 
yet  this  very  morning,  you — 

John.  This  morning?  You  forget,  sir.  You 
broke  the  violin  all  to  pieces  for  me  last  Saturday 
night. 

Mr.  O,  I'm  glad  of  it ! — Come,  now ;  that  wood 
which  I  told  you  to  saw  and  put  into  the  shed, — 
why  is  it  not  done  ?     Answer  me  that. 

John.  The  wood  is  all  sawed,  split,  and  housed 
sir ;  besides  doing  that,  I  have  watered  all  the  trees 
in  the  garden,  dug  over  three  of  the  beds,  and  was 
digging  another  when  you  knocked. 

Mr.  G.  O,  I  must  get  rid  of  this  fellow.  He 
will  plague  my  life  out  of  me.     Out  of  my  sight  sir ! 


164  THE   YOUNG  DECLAIMER. 


The  Colonists. 
Mr.  Barlow,  Arthur,  Beverly,    Charles,  Delville, 
Edward,   Francis,    George,  Henry,   Jasper,  Lewis, 
Maurice,    Oliver,  Philip,  and  Robert, 

Mr.  Barlow.  Come)  boys,  I  have  a  new  play  for 
you.  I  will  be  the  founder  of  a  colony  ;  and  you 
shall  be  people  of  different  trades  a^d  professions, 
coming  to  offer  yourselves  to  go  with  me. — What 
are  you,  Arthur  ? 

Arthur.     I  am  a  farmer,  sir. 

3fr.  B.  Very  well.  Farming  is  the  chief  thing 
we  have  to  depend  upon.  The  farmer  puts  the  seed 
into  the  earth,  and  takes  care  of  it,  when  it  is  grown 
to  the  ripe  corn ;  without  the  farmer  we  should 
have  no  bread.  But  you  must  work  very  hard; 
there  will  be  trees  to  cut  down,  and  roots  to  drag 
out,  and  a  great  deal  of  labor. 

Arthur.     I  shall  be  ready  to  do  my  part. 

Mr.  B.  Well,  then,  I  shall  take  you  willingly, 
and  as  many  more  such  good  fellows  as  you  can 
find.  We  shall  have  land  enough ;  and  you  may  fall 
to  work  as  soon  as  you  please.     Now  for  the  next. 

Beverly.     I  am  a  miller,  sir. 

Mr.  B.  A  very  useful  trade !  our  corn  must  be 
ground,  or  it  will  do  us  but  little  good.  What  must 
we  do  for  a  mill,  my  friend  ? 

Bev.     I  suppose  we  must  make  one. 


THE    YOUNG    DECLAIMER.  165 

Mr.  B.  Then  we  must  take  a  mill-ivright  with 
us,  and  carry  mill-stones.     "Who  is  next  ? 

Charles.     I  am  a  carpenter,  sir. 

Mr.  B.  The  most  necessary  man  that  could  offer. 
We  shall  find  you  work  enough,  never  fear. 
There  will  be  houses  to  build,  fences  to  make,  and 
chairs  and  tables  besides.  But  all  our  timber  is 
growing ;  we  shall  have  hard  work  to  fell  it,  to  saw 
boards  and  planks,  to  hew  timber,  and  to  frame  and 
raise  buildings. 

Charles.     I  will  do  my  best,  sir. 

Mr.  B.  Then  I  engage  you  ;  but  you  had  better 
bring  two  or  three  able  hands  along  with  you. 

Delville.     I  am  a  blacksmith. 

Mr.  B.  An  excellent  companion  for  the  carpen- 
ter. We  cannot  do  without  either  of  you.  You 
must  bring  your  great  bellows,  anvil,  and  vise  ;  and 
we  will  set  up  a  forge  for  you,  as  soon  as  we  arrive. 
By  the  by,  we  shall  want  a  mason  for  that. 

Edward.     I  am  one,  sir. 

Mr.  B.  Though  we  may  live  in  log  houses  at 
first,  we  shall  want  brick-work,  or  stone-work,  for 
chimneys,  hearths,  and  ovens ;  so  there  will  be  em- 
ployment for  a  mason.  Can  you  make  bricks  and 
burn  lime? 

Ed.     I  will  try  what  I  can  do,  sir. 

Mr.  B.  No  man  can  do  more.  I  engage  you. 
Who  is  next  ? 

Francis.     I  am  a  shoemaker. 


166  THE    YOUNG    DECLAIMER. 

Mr,  B.  Shoes  we  cannot  do  well  without ;  but  I 
fear  we  shall  get  no  leather. 

Francis.     But  I  can  dress  skins,  sir. 

Mr,  B.  Can  you  ?  Then  you  are  a  clever  fel- 
low. I  will  have  you,  though  I  give  you  double 
wages. 

George.     I  am  a  tailor,  sir. 

Mr.  B.  We  must  not  go  naked ;  so  there  will  be 
work  for  the  tailor.  But  you  are  not  above  mend- 
ing, I  hope  ;  for  we  must  not  mind  wearing  patched 
clothes,  while  we  work  in  the  woods. 

Geo.     I  am  not,  sir. 

Mr.  B.     Then  I  engage  you,  too. 

Henry.     I  am  a  silversmith,  sir. 

Mr.  B.  Then,  my  friend,  you  cannot  go  to  a 
worse  place  than  a  new  colony  to  set  up  your  trade 
in. 

Hen.  But  I  understand  clock  and  watch  making 
too. 

Mr.  B.  "We  shall  want  to  know  how  time  goes  ; 
but  we  cannot  afford  to  employ  you,  at  present : 
you  had  better  stay  where  you  are. 

Jasper.     I  am  a  barber  and  hair  dresser. 

Mr.  B.  What  can  we  do  with  you  ?  If  you 
will  shave  our  men's  rough  beards  once  a  week,  and 
crop  their  hair  once  a  quarter,  and  be  content  to 
help  the  carpenter  the  rest  of  the  time,  we  will  take 
you.  But  you  will  have  no  ladies  to  curl,  or  gen- 
tlemen to  powder,  I  assure  you. 


THE    YOUNG    DEC L AIMER.  167 

Lewis.     I  am  a  doctor. 

Mr.  B.  Then,  sir,  you  are  very  welcome ;  we 
shall  some  of  us  be  sick ;  and  we  are  likely  to 
get  cuts,  and  bruises,  and  broken  bones.  You  will 
be  very  useful.    We  shall  take  you  with  pleasure. 

Maurice.     I  am  a  lawyer,  sir. 

Mr.  B.  Sir,  your  most  obedient  servant.  When 
we  are  rich  enough  to  go  to  law,  we  will  let  you 
know. 

Oliver.     I  am  a  schoolmaster. 

Mr.  B.  That  is  a  very  respectable  and  usefiil 
profession.  As  soon  as  our  children  are  old  enough 
we  shall  be  glad  of  your  services.  Though  we  are 
hard-working  men,  we  do  not  mean  to  be  ignorant ; 
every  one  among  us  must  be  taught  reading  and 
writing,  Until  we  have  employment  for  you  in 
teaching,  if  you  will  keep  our  accounts,  and,  at  pres- 
ent, read  sermons  to  us  on  Sundays,  we  shall  be 
glad  to  have  you  among  us.     Will  you  go  ? 

Oliver.     With  all  my  heart,  sir. 

Mr.  B.     Who  comes  here  ? 

Philip,     I  am  a  soldier,  sir ;   will  you  have  me  ? 

Mr.  B.  We  are  peaceable  people ;  and  I  hope 
we  shall  not  be  obliged  to  fight.  We  are  all  soldiers, 
and  must  learn  to  defend  ourselves ;  we  shall  have 
no  occasion  for  you,  unless  you  can  be  a  mechanic 
or  a  farmer,  as  well  as  a  soldier.     Who  next  "i 

Robert.     I  am  a  gentleman^  sir. 


168  THE    YOUNG   DECLAIM ER. 

Mr.  B,  A  gentleman !  And  what  good  can  you 
do  us? 

Rob.  I  expect  to  shoot  game  enough  for  my  own 
eating;  you  can  give  me  a  little  bread  and  a  few 
vegetables ;  and  the  barber  shall  be  my  servant. 

Mr.  B.  Pray,  sir,  why  should  we  do  all  this  for 
you? 

Rob.  Why,  sir,  that  you  may  have  the  credit  of 
saying  that  you  have  one  gentleman^  at  least,  in  your 
colony. 

Mr.  B.  Ha  !  ha !  ha !  A  fine  gentleman,  truly. 
Sir,  when  we  desire  the  honor  of  your  company  we 
will  send  for  you. 

»-♦-• 

Honesty,  the  Best  Policy. 

Mr.  Day.  Well,  Mr.  Gay,  I  have  been  to  inquire 
into  the  character  of  your  son  John,  and  find  that 
his  late  employer,  Mr.  Smooth,  thinks  he  will  never 
do  for  a  merchant. 

Mr.  Gay.     Wliat  does  he  say  of  him  ? 

Mr.  Day.  He  says  that  he  has  no  tact;  by  which 
he  means,  no  dexterity,  no  skill  in  driving  a  bargain. 

Mr.  Gay.     How  did  he  prove  it  ? 

Mr.  Day.  Why,  a  lady  came  into  the  shop,  the 
other  day,  and  bought  some  silk,  and  as  she  was 
about  to  take  it  away,  John  discovered  a  flaw  in  it, 
and  he  told  her  of  it ;  whereupon  she,  of  course, 


THE    YOUNG   DECL AIMER.  IGD 

refused  to  take  it,  and  the  bargain  was  lost ;  and 
John  was  dismissed  in  consequence. 

3Ir.  Gay.  I  would  not  have  had  him  stay,  for 
millions,  in  a  shop  where  he  would  have  been  taught 
diiferently.  Does  Mr.  Smooth  say  that  John  ought 
not  to  have  undeceived  the  lady  in  regard  to  the 
silk? 

Mr.  Day.  He  says  that  purchasers  must  look  out 
for  themselves  ;  and  that,  if  goods  are  damaged,  it  is 
foolishness  in  the  salesman  to  point  it  out. 

Mr.  Gay.  Well ;  do  you  know  what  I  think  of 
such  morality,  Mr.  Day  ? 

Mr.  Day,     I  should  like  to  have  your  opinion. 

Mr.  Gay.  Then  here  it  is  :  I  would  rather  have 
my  son  live  and  die  a  pauper,  than  grow  rich  by 
such  deceit. 

Mr.  Day.  Mr.  Gay,  I  agree  with  you  fully.  I 
wanted  to  see  if  the  father  held  to  as  strict  an  integ- 
rity as  the  son.  Send  John  to  me  at  once.  I  will 
take  him  into  my  counting-room,  and  his  salary  shall 
commence  this  very  day. 

Mr.  Gay.  Thank  you,  sir.  I  am  sure  that  trick- 
ery and  deceit  are  not  essential  to  success  in  busi- 
ness. 

Mr.  Day.  You  are  right,  Mr.  Gay ;  no  man  can 
be  said  to  succeed  who  has  grown  rich  by  cheating. 
Though  he  may  roll  in  riches,  his  life  cannot  in  rea- 
son be  called  a  success ;  it  is  nothing  but  a  deplor- 
able failure. 


170  THE    YOUNG    DECLAIMER. 


Learuing*  and  Usefulness. 

Thomas.  Life  is  much  like  a  musical  instrument 
on  which  every  one  plays  to  suit  himself.  Don't 
you  think  so,  Edward  ? 

Edward.  Yes,  —  and  all  the  better  for  that. 
The  more  music  the  better  I  like  it.  A  merry 
noise  always  suits  me — and  any  one  who  don't  set  his 
hours  to  music,  has  a  dull  time  of  it. 

Thomas.  All  this  might  be  very  well,  friend  Ed- 
ward, if  life  had  no  serious  duties  which  call  for  our 
attention.  Ought  we  not  to  improve  our  minds  and 
get  that  knowledge  which  will  fit  us  for  usefulness. 

Edward.  Usefulness  !  Why,  in  the  present  day 
for  a  man  to  prepare  himself  for  usefulness,  is  like 
carrying  coals  to  Newcastle.  Our  country  is  full  of 
useful  men :  ten,  at  least,  where  one  is  wanted,  and 
all  of  them  ten  times  as  ready  to  serve  the  public 
as  the  public  is  to  be  served.  Why  if  every  man 
who  is  qualified  should  go  to  Congress,  Washington 
would  not  hold  a  quarter  of  them. 

Thomas.  You  mean  all  who  think  themselves  fit 
to  go. 

Edward.     No ;   I  meant  as  I  said. 

Thomas.  Then  what  do  you  think  fits  a  man  for 
Congress  ? 

Edward.     Why,  he  must  be  flippant  and  bold. 

Thomas.  What  good  will  that  do  him  if  he  is 
without  knowledge  ? 


THE    YOUNG   DECL AIMER.  171 

Edward,  0!  he  must  have  knowledge,  to  be 
sure. 

Thomas.  Well,  must  he  not  be  a  man  whom  the 
people  can  trust  ?  Must  he  not  understand  politics, 
and  be  willing  to  serve  his  country  ? 

Edward.     Well,  I  agree  to  all  that. 

Thomas.  Then  you  think  our  Capitol  would 
hardly  hold  the  men  who  unite  eloquence  with  con- 
fidence, knowledge  with  honesty,  and  policy  with 
patriotism  ?  I  fear  a  much  smaller  space  would 
hold  them  all. 

Edward*  Well,  I  don't  go  so  deep  into  these 
matters.  But  this  I  know,  there  are  always  men 
enough  who  want  all  the  offices. 

Thomas.  Very  true.  But  are  there  no  other 
ways  for  doing  good,  and  serving  the  public  ? 

Edward.  Why,  yes :  one  may  preach  if  he  will 
do  it  for  little  or  nothing  ;  or  he  may  practice  law 
or  medicine,  if  he  can  get  people  to  employ  him  ; 
or  teach  school,  if  he  will  live  on  a  trifle  and  "  board 
round  ;"  but  I  tell  you  the  country  is  crowded  with 
learned  men  begging  business. 

Thomas.  So  you  intend  to  prepare  yourself  for 
the  ignorant  herd,  that  you  may  not  be  crowded  ? 

Edward.  Yes,  I  have  serious  thouglits  of  it. 
You  may  do  as  you  please,  but  I  will  never  ruin  a 
line  pair  of  eyes  in  preparing  myself  for  usefulness, 
— unless  the  public  will  give  me  a  bond  to  employ 
me  when  I  am  ready  to  serve  them.     Till  such  a 


172  THE    YOUNG   DECL AIMER. 

bond  is  signed,  sealed,  and  delivered,  I  shall  set  my 
hours  to  the  tune  of  "  Jack's  alive." 

Thomas.  "Well,  Edward,  you  have  your  choice : 
but  I  shall  set  my  hours  to  a  more  serious  tune.  I 
ask  no  bond  of  the  public.  I  shall  gain  all  the 
knowledge  I  can,  that  I  may  be  useful  and  do  good 
in  the  world — and  then  when  I  am  called  to  die  I 
hope  to  find  a  rich  reward  in  the  reflection  that  my 
time  has  been  well  spent,  and  that  I  have  done 
what  I  could  for  the  good  of  others. 


The  Children's  Choice. 
JOHN. 
I  mean  to  be  a  soldier, 

With  uniform  quite  new; 
I  wish  they'd  let  me  have  a  drum, 

And  be  a  captain  too  : 
I  would  go  amid  the  battle 

With  my  broadsword  in  my  hand, 
And  hear  the  cannon  rattle. 

And  the  music  all  so  grand. 

MOTHER. 

My  son !   my  son !   what  if  that  sword 
Should  strike  a  noble  heart, 

And  bid  some  loving  father 
From  his  little  ones  depart  I 


THE    YOUNG    DECLAIMER.  173 

What  comfort  would  your  waving  plumes 

And  brilliant  dress  bestow, 
When  you  thought  upon  the  widow's  tears 

And  her  orphan's  cry  of  woe ! 

WILLIAM. 

I  mean  to  be  a  president, 

And  rule  each  rising  state, 
And  hold  my  levees  once  a  week 

For  all  the  gay  and  great : 
I'll  be  a  king,  except  a  crown, 

For  that  they  won't  allow, 
And  I'll  find  out  what  the  tariff  is, 

That  puzzles  me  so  now. 

MOTHER. 

My  son !   my  son !   the  cares  of  state 
Are  thorns  upon  the  breast. 

That  ever  pierce  the  good  man's  heart. 
And  rob  him  of  liis  rest. 

The  great  and  gay  to  him  appear 
As  trifling  as  the  dust. 

For  he  knows  how  little  they  are  worth- 
How  faithless  is  their  trust. 

LOUISA. 

I  mean  to  be  a  cottage  girl, 

And  sit  behind  a  rill. 
And  mom  and  eve  my  pitcher  there 

With  purest  water  fill ; 


174  THE   YOUNG   DECL AIMER. 

And  I'll  train  a  lovely  woodbine 
Around  my  cottage  door, 

And  welcome  to  my  winter  hearth 
The  wandering  and  the  poor. 

MOTHER. 

Louisa,  dear,  a  humble  mind 

'Tis  beautiful  to  see, 
And  you  shall  never  hear  a  word 

To  check  that  mind,  from  me  ; 
But  ah !  remember,  pride  may  dwell 

Beneath  the  woodbine  shade ; 
And  discontent,  a  sullen  guest, 

The  cottage  hearth  invade. 

CAROLINE. 

I  will  be  gay  and  courtly. 

And  dance  away  the  hours ; 
Music,  and  sport,  and  joy  shall  dwell 

Beneath  my  fairy  bowers  ; 
No  heart  shall  ache  with  sadness 

Within  my  laughing  hall. 
But  the  note  of  joy  and  gladness 

Re-echo  to  my  call. 

MOTHER. 

Oh,  children  !  sad  it  makes  my  soul 
To  hear  your  playful  strain  ; 

I  cannot  bear  to  chill  your  heart 
With  images  of  pain  ; 


THE   YOUNG   DECL AIMER.  175 

Yet  humbly  take  what  God  bestows, 

And' like  his  own  fair  flowers, 
Look  up  in  sunshine  with  a  smile, 

And  gently  bend  in  showers. 


What  Saith  the  Fountain  P 
MARY. 

"What  saith  the  fountain, 

Hid  in  the  glade, 
Where  the  tall  mountain 

Throweth  its  shade? 

SUSAN. 

"  Deep  in  my  waters  reflected  serene, 
All  the  soft  beauty  of  heaven  is  seen ; 
Thus  let  thy  bosom,  from  wild  passions 

free, 
Ever  the  mirror  of  purity  be." 

MARY. 

What  saith  the  streamlet, 

Flowing  so  bright. 
Clear  as  a  beamlet. 

Of  silvery  light  ? 

SUSAN. 

"  Morning  and  evening  still  floating 

along, 
Upward  forever  ascendeth  my  song ; 


176  THE   YOUNG   DECL AIMER. 

Be  thou  contented,  whate'er  may  befall, 
Cheerful  in  knowing  that  God  is  o'er 
aU." 

MARY. 

What  saith  the  river, 

Majestic  in  flow, 
Moving  forever 

Calmly  and  slow  ? 

SUSAN. 

"  Over  my  surface  the  great  vessels  glide, 
Ocean-ward  borne  by  my  strong,  heaving 

tide; 
Toil  on,  my  brother,  life  vanisheth  fast, 
Labor  unwearied,  rest  cometh  at  last." 

MARY. 

What  saith  the  ocean. 

Boundless  as  night. 
Ceaseless  in  motion, 

Resistless  in  might  ? 

SUSAN. 

"  Fountain  to  streamlet,  streamlet  to 

river, 
All  in  my  bosom  commingle  forever ; 
Morning  to  noontide,  noontide  to  night, 
Soon  will  eternity  veil  thee  from  sight." 


THE    YOUNG   DECLAIMER.  177 


Siinrise  and  Sunset. 

**  At  evening- time  it  shall  be  light." 

MARY. 

How  beautiful  is  morning, 

The  childtiood  of  the  day ; 
Fair  as  an  infant's  smiling 
Beams  its  first  rosy  ray. 
How  pure  and  sweet  the  flowers, 

Its  holy  dews  have  kissed ; 
How  gorgeous  are  its  cloudlets 
Of  gold  and  amethyst. 
Oh  )   then,  earth,  air,  and  sky,  with  music  ring. 
And;  like  the  lark,  our  souls  at  heaven's  gate  sing. 
Such  be  the  morning  of  thy  life's  young  day, 
Without  a  care  to  dim  its  rosy  ray. 

ANNE. 

But  morn,  sweet  morn,  must  vanish ; 

The  sun  ascendeth  higher ; 
The  purple  clouds  are  scattered 

Before  his  glance  of  fire ; 
The  flowers  bend  pale  and  drooping. 

Robbed  of  their  pearly  dew  ; 

No  lark's  glad  song  is  thrilling 

Yon  sky  of  burning  blue. 

Then  comes  the  heat  and  burden  of  the  day, 

Then  must  we  toil  beneath  the  scorching  ray. 


178  THE    YOUNG    DECLAIMER* 

Toil  bravely  on,  with  patient,  willing  feet. 
For  there  remaineth  yet  a  rest  more  sweet. 

HANNAH. 

Then,  lovelier  than  the  morning. 

With  soft  and  rosy  ray, 
Shall  come  the  peaceful  evening?, 

To  crown  the  well- spent  day. 
As  balmy  are  the  blossoms 

Its  holy  dews  have  kissed ; 
As  rich  its  sunset-glories 
Of  gold  and  amethyst. 
Then  is  the  time  to  rest ;  'neath  angel  wings. 
To  slumber  safe,  till  a  new  morning  springs. 
Thus  beauteous  be  thy  life's  declining  ray. 
Thus  mayst  thou  sleep,  and  wake  to  endless  day. 


When  We  Love  the  Sunshine. 

MARY. 
I  love  the  sunshine  everywhere,— 

In  wood,  and  field,  and  glen ; 
I  love  it  in  the  busy  haunts 

Of  town-imprisoned  men. 

LUCY. 

I  love  it  when  it  streameth  in 

The  humble  cottage  door. 
And  casts  the  checkered  casement  shade 

Upon  the  clean,  white  floor. 


THE    YOUNG    DECLAIMER.  179 

ELLEN. 

I  love  it  where  the  children  lie 

Deep  in  the  clovery  grass, 
To  watch  among  the  twining  roots, 

The  gold- green  beetle  pass. 

THOMAS. 

I  love  it  on  the  breezy  sea, 

To  glance  on  sail  and  oar, 
While  the  great  waves,  like  molten  glass, 

Come  leaping  to  the  shore. 

HENRY. 

I  love  it  on  the  mountain-tops, 

Where  lies  the  thawless  snow ; 
And  half  a  kingdom,  bathed  in  light. 

Lies  stretching  out  below. 

ALL. 

Oh !  yes,  we  love  the  sunshine ! 

Like  kindness,  or  like  mirth, 
Upon  a  human  countenance, 

Is  sunshine  on  the  earth. 

Upon  the  earth, — upon  the  sea,— 

And  through  the  crystal  air 
Or  piled-up  clouds, — the  gracious  sun 

Is  glorious  everywhere. 


180  THE   YOUNG   DECL AIMER. 

Wishes  and  Realities. 

SUSAN. 

I  wish  I  were  a  little  bird 

To  fly  so  far  and  high, 
And  sail  along  the  golden  clouds, 

And  through  the  azure  sky. 
I'd  be  the  first  to  see  the  sun 

Up  from  the  ocean  spring ; 
And  ere  it  touched  the  glittering  spire, 

His  ray  should  gild  my  wmg. 

MOTHER. 

Wings  cannot  soar  above  the  sky, 

As  thou  in  thought  canst  do ; 
Nor  can  the  veiling  clouds  confine 

Thy  mental  eye's  keen  view. 
Not  to  the  sun  dost  thou  chant  forth 

Thy  simple  evening  hymn ; 
Thou  praisest  Him  before  whose  smile 

The  noon-day  sun  grows  dim. 

SUSAN. 

Above  the  hills  I'd  watch  him  still 
Far  down  the  crimson  west ; 

And  sing  to  him  my  evening  song, 
Ere  yet  I  sought  my  rest. 


THE    YOUNG    DECLAIMER.  181 

And  many  a  land  I  then  should  see, 

As  hill  and  plain  I  crossed, — 
Nor  fear  through  all  the  pathless  sky 

That  I  should  e'er  be  lost. 

MOTHER. 

But  thou  mayst  learn  to  trace  the  sun 

Around  the  earth  and  sky, 
And  see  him  rising,  setting,  still, 

Where  distant  oceans  lie. 
To  other  lands  the  bird  may  guide 

His  pinions  through  the  air ; 
Ere  yet  he  rests  his  wings,  thou  art, 

In  thought,  before  him  there. 

SUSAN. 

I'd  fly  where,  round  the  olive  bough, 

The  vine  its  tendrils  weaves ; 
And  shelter  from  the  noon-beams  seek 

Among  the  myrtle  leaves. 
Now,  if  I  climb  our  highest  hill, 

How  little  can  I  see  ! 
Oh !    had  I  but  wings,  mamma. 

How  happy  should  I  be. 

MOTHER. 

Though  strong  and  free,  the  wing  may  droop, 

Or  bands  restrain  its  flight ; 
Thought  none  may  stay — more  fleet  i's  course 

Than  swiftest  beams  of  light. 


182  THE    YOUNG   DECLAIMER. 

A  lovelier  clime  than  birds  can  find, 
While  summers  go  and  come, 

Beyond  this  earth  remains  for  those, 
Whom  God  doth  summon  home. 


I  Can  and  I  Oan't. 
JOHN. 

As  through  life's  journey  we  go  day  by  day, 
There  are  two  whom  we  meet  each  turn  of  the  way, 
To  help  or  to  hinder,  to  bless  or  to  ban, — 
And  the  names  of  these  two  are,  "  I  can't,"  and  "  I 
can." 

CHARLES. 

I  carCt  is  a  dwarf,  a  poor,  pale,  puny  imp ; 
His  eyes  are  half  blind,  and  his  walk  is  a  limp ; 
He  stumbles  and  falls,  or  lies  writhing  with  fear, 
Though  danger  is  distant,  and  succor  is  near. 

HENRY. 

lean  is  a  giant;  unbending  he  stands; 
There  is  strength  in  his  arm,  and  skill  in  his  hands ; 
He  asks  for  no  favors  ;  he  wants  but  a  share 
Where  labor  is  honest,  and  wages  are  fair. 

CHARLES. 

I  can't  is  a  sluggard,  too  lazy  to  work ; 

From  duty  he  shrinks,  every  task  he  will  shirk : 


THE    YOUNG    DECLAIMER.  183 

No  bread  on  his  board,  and  no  meat  in  his  bag  ; 
His  house  is  a  ruin,  his  coat  is  a  rag. 

HENRY. 

lean  is  a  worker ;  he  tills  the  broad  fields, 
And  digs  from  the  earth  all  the  wealth  which  it 

yields  ; 
The  hum  of  his  spindles  begins  with  the  light, 
And  the  iires  of  his  forges  are  blazing  all  night. 

CHARLES. 

I canH  is  a  coward,  half  fainting  with  fright; 
At  the  first  thought  of  peril  he  sinks  out  of  siglit; 
Slinks  and  hides  till  the  noise  of  the  battle  is  past, 
Or  sells  his  best  friends,  and  turns  traitor  at  last. 

HENRY. 

I  can  is  a  hero,  the  first  in  the  field ; 
Though  others  may  falter,  he  never  will  yield  ; 
He  makes  the  long  marches,  he  strikes  the  last  blow, 
Hi>?  charge  is  the  whirlwind  that  scatters  the  foe. 

How  grandly  and  nobly  he  stands  to  his  trust, 
AVhen  roused  at  the  call  of  a  cause  that  is  just ; 
He  weds  his  strong  will  to  the  valor  of  youth. 
And  writes  on, his  banner  the  watchword  of  Truth. 

ALL    THREE. 

Then  up  and  be  doing !  the  day  is  not  long ; 
Throw  fear  to  the  winds  :   be  patient  and  strong ! 


184  THE     YOUNG    DECLAIMER, 

Stand  fast  in  your  place,  act  your  part  like  a  man ; 
And  when  duty  calls,  answer  promptly, — I  can  1 


What  We  Love. 
MAHY. 

I  love  the  cheerful  summer-time. 
With  all  its  birds  and  flowers, — 

Its  shining  garments  green  and  smooth, 
Its  cool,  refreshing  showers, 

JENNIE. 

I  love  to  hear  the  little  birds 

That  carol  on  the  trees ; 
I  love  the  gentle,  murmuring  stream, 

I  love  the  evening  breeze. 

ALICE. 

I  love  the  bright  and  glorious  sun. 
That  gives  us  light  and  heat ; 

I  love  the  pearly  drops  of  dew 
That  sparkle  'neath  my  feet. 

CHARLES. 

I  love  to  hear  the  hum 

Of  honey  making  bees, 
And  learn  a  lesson,  hard  to  learn. 

Of  patient  industry. 


THE  YOUNG  DECLAIMER.         185 
HENRY. 

I  love  to  see  the  playful  lambs, 

So  innocent  and  gay  ; 
I  love  the  faithful,  watchful  dog, 
Who  guards  them  night  and  day. 

SARAH. 

I  love  to  think  of  Him  who  made 
These  pleasant  things  for  me ; 
Who  gave  me  life,  and  health,  and  strength, 
And  eyes  that  I  might  see. 

MARTHA. 

I  love  the  peaceful  Sabbath  day. 

So  peaceful,  calm  and  still ; 
And  oh  !   I  love  to  go  to  church 

To  learn  my  Maker's  will. 


Oouscience. 
WILLIAM. 

I  have  a  little  voice  within 
That  always  tells  me  when  I  sin  ; 
I'm  sure  I  know  not  whence  it  came. 
Pray,  sister,  tell  me  what's  its  name  ? 
There  is  no  one,  however  near. 
Whispers  so  sternly  in  my  ear  5 
And  often  in  my  lively  play. 
If  any  thing  I  do  or  say 


186  THE   YOUNG    DECLAIMER. 

That's  wrong  or  wicked,  then  I  hear 
This  gentle  tapping  in  my  ear. 
I  know  it  is  not  Mother's  tone, 
Nor  Father's,  for  when  they  are  gone, 
It  keeps  on  prompting  just  the  same, 
If  aught  I  do  that  they  would  blame. 

MARY. 

And,  brother,  don't  it  always  tell 
In  kindly  notes  when  you've  doiie  well? 
Are  not  its  whispers  always  mild 
When  you  have  been  a  duteous  child? 
God  gave  not  to  the  hud  nor  Jlower, 
This  inward  voice  of  wondrous  power. 
Ah,  no,  it  only  has  its  birth 
In  us,  who  perish  not  with  earth ; 
Its  name  is  conscience,  and  'twill  be 
A  voice  from  which  you  cannot  flee ; 
It  keeps  a  registry  within, 
Rebuking  those  who  live  in  sin, 
And  utters  words  of  softest  tone 
To  those  who  will  its  dictates  own. 


Freedom's  Jubilee. 

BOY. 


:^t)ia',  took  up  and  see  that  flag, 
How  gracefully  it  flies — • 


THE    YOUNG    DECLAIMER.  187 

Those  pretty  stripes — tliey  seem  to  be 
A  rainbow  in  the  skies. 

FATHER. 

It  is  your  country's  flag,  my  son, 

And  proudly  drinks  the  light ; 
O'er  ocean's  wave,  in  foreign  climes, 

A  symbol  of  our  might. 

BOY. 

Father,  what  fearful  noise  is  that, 

Like  thundering  in  the  clouds  ? 
Why  do  the  people  wave  their  hats 

And  rush  along  in  crowds  ? 

FATHER. 

It  is  the  voice  of  cannonry — 

The  glad  shouts  of  the  free ; 
This  is  a  day  to  memory  dear— 

'Tis  Freedom's  Jubilee. 

BOY. 

I  wish  that  I  was  now  a  man, 
I'd  fire  my  cannon  too ; 

And  cheer  as  loudly  as  the  rest- 
But,  father,  why  don't  you  ? 

FATHER. 

I  am  getting  old,  and  weak — --^ut  still 
Mv  heart  is  ])ig  with  joy  ; 


188  THE    YOUNG    DECL AIMER. 

IVe  witnessed  many  a  day  like  this-* 
Shout  YOU  aloud,  my  boy. 

BOY. 

Hurrah !  for  Freedom's  Jubilee  I 
God  bless  our  native  land ! 

And  may  I  live  to  hold  the  boon 
Of  Freedom  in  my  hand ! 

FATHER. 

Well  done,  my  boy — grow  up  and  love 
The  land  that  gave  you  birth — 

A  land  where  freedom  loves  to  dwell-— 
A  paradise  on  earth. 


The  Child's  Iiessons. 


MARY. 
"  Mother,  may  I  stay  at  home  ? 

I  hate  to  go  to  school, 
And  study  all  the  live-long  day ; 

I'd  rather  be  a  fool. 

"  Little  birds  are  flying  round, 
So  merry,  bright,  and  gay  ; 

And  bees  are  buzzing  in  the  vines 
The  whole  long  summer  day  ; 

"  Flowers  nod  brightly  in  the  wind ; 
The  trees  are  all  in  bloom ; 


THE    YOUNG    DECLAIMER.  189 

And  everywhere  the  sunshine  laughs 
But  in  that  old,  close  room, 

"  I  never  want  to  see  a  book 

As  long  as  I  may  live  ; 
And,  oh  !  to  play  forever, 

There's  nothing  but  I'd  give. 

"Say,  mother,  will  you  give  me  leave 

To  stay  out-doors  all  day  ; 
And  with  the  birds,  and  bees,  and  flowers, 

To  have  my  fill  of  play  ?" 

MOTHER. 

"  No,  dear,  you  must  a  lesson  learn 
From  birds,  and  flowers,  and  bees^ 

From  all  the  sunshine  rests  upon, 
Green  grass  and  waving  trees. 

"  There's  not  a  creature  on  the  earth 

But  has  his  work  to  do ; 
They  all  obey  a  Higher  Power, 

And  so,  my  child,  must  you. 

"  The  birds  sing  praises  to  our  God ; 

The  bees 'sweet  honey. give; 
The  trees  bear  fruit,  and  all  the  flowers 

Yield  fragrance  while  they  live." 

MARY. 

"  But,  mamma,  butterflies  don't  work, 
They  flit  about  all  day ; 


190  THE    YOUNG    DECLAIMER. 

Their  little,  shiny,  gauzy  wings 

Are  only  fit  for  play. 
"  And,  dear  mamma,  I'm  very  sure, 

They'll  teach  me  nothing  new ; 
And  none  seem  happier  all  the  day, 

With  not  a  thing  to  do." 

MOTHER. 

"  One  lesson  you  may  learn,  my  dear. 
From  the  giddy  butterfly — 

It  may  be  'tis  their  only  work 
To  teach  it  and  to  die  : 

"  At  first  they  crawl  upon  the  earth, 
A  hateful,  groveling  thing ; 

But  soon  unto  a  higher  life 
They  rise,  on  brilliant  wing. 

"  And  you,  my  darling,  too,  one  day. 

Immortal,  shall  arise: 
Be  faithful  here,  and  you  shall  dwell 

Forever  in  the  skies." 


The  Echo. 
Question,     True  faith,  producing  love  to  God  and 
man. 
Say,  Echo,  is  not  this  the  gospel  plan  ? 
Echo.*     The  gospel  plan. 
*From  an  adjoining  room  or  closet. 


THE    YOUNG   DECL AIMER.  191 

Question.     Must  I  my  faith  and  love  to  Jesus  show 
By  doing  good  to  all,  both  friend  and 

foe? 
Echo.     Both  friend  and  foe. 

Question.     But  if  a  brother  hates  and  treats  me  ill, 
Must  I  return  him  good  and  love  him 

still? 
Echo.     Love  him  still. 

Question.     If  he  my  failings  watches  to  reveal, 

Must  I  his  faults  as  carefully  conceal  ? 
Echo.     As  carefully  conceal. 

Question.     But  if  my  name  and  character  he  blast. 
And  cruel  maHce,  too,  a  long  time  last ; 
And,  if  I  sorrow  and  affliction  know. 
He  loves  to  add  unto  ray  cup  of  woe ; 
In  this  uncommon,  this  peculiar  case, 
Sweet  Echo,  say,  must  I  still  love  and 

bless  ? 
Echo.     Still  love  and  bless. 

Question.     Whatever  usage  ill  I  may  receive, 

Must  I  be  patient  still,  and  still  forgive? 

Echo.     Be  patient  still,  and  still  forgive. 

Question.     Why,  Echo,  how  is  this  ?   thou*rt  sure  a 
dove  ! 


192  THE    YOUNG    DECLAIMER. 

Thy  voice  shall  teach  me  nothing  else 
but  love  ! 

Echo.     Nothing  else  but  love. 

Question.     Amen,  with  all  my  heart  then,  be  it  so ; 
'Tis  all  delightful,  just,  and  good,  Tknow ; 
And  now,  to  practice,  I'll  directly  go. 
Echo.     Directly  go. 

Question.     Things  being  so,  whoever  me  reject, 

My  gracious  God  me  surely  will  protect 

Echo.     Surely  will  protect. 

Question.     Henceforth  I'll  roll  on  Him  my  evei 
care, 
And  then  both  friend  and  foe  embrace 
in  prayer. 

Echo.     Embrace  in  prayer. 

Question.     But  after  all  these  duties  I  have  done. 
Must  I,  in  point  of  merit,  them  disown, 
And  trust  for  Heaven  through  Jesus' 
blood  alone  ? 

Echo.     Through  Jesus'  blood  alone. 

Question.     Echo,  enough !  Thy  counsels  to  mine  ear 
Are  sweeter  than,  to  flowers,  the 
dew-drop  clear ; 


THE    YOUNG    DECLAIMER.  193 

Thy  wise,  iustructive  lessons  please  me 

well; 
I'll  go  and  practice  them.     Farewell, 

farewell  ! 

Echo,     Practice  them.     Farewell, 
farewell. 


What  To  Be.* 

Be  patient — life  is  very  brief, 

It  passes  quickly  by ; 
And  if  it  prove  a  troubled  scene 

Beneath  a  stormy  sky, 
It  is  but  like  a  shaded  night 
That  brings  a  morn  of  radiance  bright 

Be  hopeful — faith  will  bring 

A  living  joy  to  thee 
And  make  thy  life  a  hymn  of  praise, 

From  doubt  and  murmur  free ; 
Whilst,  like  the  sunbeam,  thou  wilt  bless, 
And  bring  to  others  happiness. 

Be  earnest — an  immortal  soul 

Should  be  a  worker  true. 
Employ  the  talents  for  thy  God, 

And  ever  keep  in  view 
The  judgment  scene,  the  great  last  day, — 
When  heaven  and  earth  shall  pass  away. 


*By  six  boys  or  girls, — one  stunza  each 


194  THE    YOUNG    DECLAIMER. 

Be  holy — let  not  sin's  dark  stain 

The  spirit's  whiteness  dim ; 
Keep  close  to  God  amid  the  world. 

And  put  thy  trust  in  Him : 
So  midst  thy  business  and  thy  rest, 
Thou  wilt  be  comforted  and  blest. 

Be  prayerful — ^ask,  and  thou  wilt  have 

Strength  equal  to  thy  day  ; 
Prayer  clasps  the  hand  that  guides  the  world, 

Oh !  make  it  then  thy  stay ; 
Ask  largely,  and  thy  God  will  be 
A  kingly  giver  unto  thee. 

Be  ready — many  fall  around, 

Our  Aoved  ones  disappear, 
We  know  |K)t  when  our  call  may  come, 

Nor  should  we  wait  in  fear ; 
If  ready,  we  can  calmly  rest ; 
Living  or  dying,  we  are  blest 


PART  IV.-FOR  CONCERT  RECITATION. 


God  is  Q-ood. 
God  is  good !  each  perfumed  flower, 

The  waving  field,  the  dark  green  wood ; 
The  insect  fluttering  for  an  hour, — 

All  things  proclaim  that  God  is  good, 

I  hear  it  in  each  breath  of  wind ; 

The  hills  that  have  for  ages  stood. 
And  clouds,  with  gold  and  silver  lined, 

All  still  repeat  that  God  is  good. 

Each  streamlet,  that  for  many  a  year 
Has  the  same  verdant  path  pursued. 

And  every  bird  in  accents  clear, 
Join  in  the  song  that  God  is  good. 

The  restless  sea,  with  haughty  roar, 

Calms  each  wild  wave  and  billows  rude ; 

Retreats  submissive  from  the  shore 

And  swells  the  chorus — "  God  is  good." 

The  countless  host  of  twinkling  stars. 
That  sing  His  praise  with  light  renewed ; 
(195) 


196  THE    YOUNG    DECLAIMER. 

The  rising  sun  each  day  declares, 
In  rays  of  glory — "  God  is  good." 

The  moon,  that  walks  in  brightness,  says 
That  God  is  good !   and  man,  endued 

With  power  to  speak  his  Maker's  praise, 
Should  still  repeat  that  "  God  is  good." 


Hjonn  of  Nature.* 

God  of  the  earth's  extended  plains ! 

The  dark  green  fields  contented  lie : 
The  mountains  rise  like  holy  towers, 

Where  man  might  commune  with  the  sky : 
The  tall  cliff  challenges  the  storm 

That  lowers  upon  the  vale  below, 
Where  shaded  fountains  send  their  streams, 

With  joyous  music  in  their  flow. 

God  of  the  dark  and  heavy  deep ! 

The  waves  lie  sleeping  on  the  sands, 
Till  the  fierce  trumpet  of  the  storm 

Hath  summoned  up  their  thundering  bands 
Then  the  white  sails  are  dashed  like  foam, 

Or  hurry,  trembling,  o'er  the  seas, 
Till,  calmed  by  Thee,  the  sinking  gale 

Serenely  breathes — Depart  in  peace. 

*Let  this  be  spoken  by  a  class  of  six,— a  verse  each— and  let  the  last 
verse  be  spoken  by  all  in  concert. 


THE    YOUNG   DECLAIMER.  197 

God  of  the  forest's  solemn  shade  ! 

The  grandeur  of  the  lonely  tree, 
That  wrestles  singly  with  the  gale, 

Lifts  up  admiring  eyes  to  Thee; 
But  more  majestic  far  they  stand, 

When,  side  by  side,  their  ranks  they  form 
To  wave  on  high  .their  plumes  of  green, 

And  fight  their  battles  with  the  storm. 

God  of  the  light  and  viewless  air ! 

Where  summer  breezes  sweetly  flow. 
Or,  gathering  in  their  airy  might. 

The  fierce  and  wintry  tempests  blow ; 
All, — from  the  evening's  plaintive  sigh. 

That  hardly  lifts  the  drooping  flower. 
To  the  wild  whirlwind's  midnight  cry, — 

Breath  forth  the  language  of  Thy  power. 

God  of  the  fair  and  open  sky  ! 

How  gloriously  above  us  springs 
The  tented  dome  of  heavenly  blue, 

Suspended  on  the  rainbow's  rings !  " 
Each  brilliant  star  that  sparkles  through, 

Each  gilded  cloud  that  wanders  free 
In  evening's  purple  radiance,  gives 

The  beauty  of  its  praise  to  Thee. 

God  of  the  rolling  orbs  above ! 

Thy  name  is  written  clearly  bright, 


198  THE    YOUNG    DECLAIMEK. 

In  the  warm  day's  nn varying  blaze, 
Or  evening's  golden  shower  of  light. 

For  every  fire  that  fronts  the  sun, 
And  every  spark  that  walks  alone, 

Around  the  utmost  verge  of  heaven, 
Were  kindled  at  Thy  burning  throne. 

God  of  the  world !  the  hour  must  come, 

And  Nature's  self  to  dust  return ; 
Her  crumbling  altars  must  decay ; 

Her  incense  fires  shall  cease  to  burn ; 
But  still  her  grand  and  lovely  scenes 

Have  made  man's  warmest  praises  flow ; 
For  hearts  grow  holier  as  they  trace 

The  beauty  of  the  world  below. 


Up"ward  and  On-^ard* 
Battling  in  the  cause  of  truth 
With  the  zeal  and  strength  of  youth : 

Upward,  raise  your  banner  higher, 
Onward,  urge  your  phalanx  nigher 

To  the  centre  of  the  strife, 
Strike,  where  virtue  finds  a  foe — 
Strike,  while  love  directs  the  blow — 

Where  the  foes  of  man  are  rife. 

Be  your  watchword  truth  and  love, 
Be  your  stay  the  strength  above ; 


THE    YOUNG   DECL AIMER.  199 

'Mid  the  pure,  remain  the  purest, 
'Mid  the  faithful,  be  the  surest — 

Temperance  your  banner  star. 
Ask  not  rest,  nor  pray  for  peace, 
'Till  the  demon  foe  shall  cease 

Life  and  all  its  joys  to  mar. 

Warriors  in  the  cause  of  right, 
Earnest  in  your  zeal  and  might, 
Joying  in  your  high  endeavor, 
Onward  press,  and  falter  never, 

'Till  the  victory  be  won, 
Shout,  until  the  field  ye  gain. 
Press  to  those  which  still  remain. 

Battling  till  the  work  be  done. 


Little  by  Little. 
One  step,  and  then  another, 

And  the  longest  walk  is  ended ; 
One  stitch,  and  then  another, 

And  the  largest  rent  is  mended ; 
One  brick  upon  another. 

And  the  highest  wall  is  made ; 
One  flake  upon  another. 

And  the  deepest  snow  is  laid. 

So  the  little  coral  workers. 

By  their  slow  but  constant  motion, 


200  THE    YOUNG   I>ECLAIMER. 

Have  built  those  pretty  islands 
In  the  distant,  dark  blue  ocean  ; 

And  the  noblest  undertakings 
Man's  wisdom  hath  conceived^ 

By  oft-repeated  efforts 

Have  been  patiently  achieved. 


Aspirations  of  Youth» 

Higher,  higher  will  we  climb, 

Up  the  mount  of  glory, 
That  our  names  may  live  through  time, 

In  our  country's  story  ; 
Happy,  when  her  welfare  calls. 
He  who  conquers,  he  who  falls. 

Deeper,  deeper  let  us  toil 
In  the  mines  of  knowledge ; 

Nature's  wealth,  and  learning's  spoil 
Win  from  school  and  college ; 

Delve  we  there  for  richer  gems, 

Than  the  stars  of  diadems. 

Onward,  onward  may  we  press. 
Through  the  path  of  duty ; 

Virtue  is  true  happiness, 
Excellence  true  beauty ; 

Minds  are  of  celestial  birth, — 

Make  we  then  a  heaven  of  earth. 


THE    YOUNG    DECLAIMER.  201 

Closer,  closer  let  us  knit 

Hearts  and  hands  together, 
Where  our  fireside  comforts  sit, 

In  the  wildest  weather ; 
Oh !   they  wander  wide  who  roam 
From  the  joys  of  life  and  home. 

♦-♦-• • 


Dara  and  Do. 
Dare  to  think,  though  others  frown  ; 

Dare  in  words  your  thoughts  express ; 
Dare  to  rise,  though  oft  cast  down ; 

Dare  the  wronged  and  scorned  to  bless. 

Dare  from  custom  to  <lepart ; 

Dare  the  priceless  pearl  possess ; 
Dare  to'wear  it  next  your  heart ; 

Dare,  when  others  curse,  to  bless. 

Dare  forsake  what  you  deem  wrong ; 

Dare  to  walk  in  wisdom's  way ; 
Dare  to  give  where  gifts  belong ; 

Dare  God's  precepts  to  obey. 

Do  what  conscience  says  is  right ; 

Do  what  reason  says  is  best ; 
Do  with  all  your  mind  and  might ; 

Do  your  duty,  and  be  blest. 


202  THE    YOUNG    DECL AIMER. 

Bo  G-ood. 

We  all  might  do  good 

Where  we  often  do  ill ; 
There  is  always  the  way, 

If  there  be  but  the  will. 
Though  it  be  but  a  word 

Kindly  breathed  or  suppressed, 
It  may  guard  oflP  some  pain, 

Or  give  peace  to  some  breast. 

We  may  all  do  good 

In  a  thousand  small  ways, — 
In  forbearing  to  flatter, 

Yet  yielding  due  praise : 
lii  spurning  all  rumor. 

Reproving  wrong  done. 
And  treating  but  kindly 

The  hearts  we  have  won. 

We  all  may  do  good. 

Whether  lowly  or  great, 
For  the  deed  is  not  gauged 

By  the  purse  or  estate  ; 
If  it  be  but  a  cup 

Of  cold  water  that's  given. 
Like  the  widow's  two  mites. 

It  is  something  for  Heaven. 


THE    YOUNG    DECLAIMER.  203 

Sow  Seeds  of  Kindness. 

Let  US  gather  up  the  sunbeams 

Lying  all  around  our  path  ; 
Let  us  keep  the  wheat  and  roses, 

Casting  out  the  thorns  and  chaff; 
Let  us  find  our  sweetest  comfort 

In  the  blessings  of  to-day, 
With  a  patient  hand  removing 

All  the  briers  from  the  way. 

Strange  we  never  prize  the  music 

Till  the  sweet-toned  bird  is  flown  ! 
Strange  that  we  should  slight  the  violets 

Till  the  lovely  flowers  are  gone  ! 
Strange  that  summer  skies  and  sunshine 

Never  seem  one  half  so  fair 
As  when  winter's  snowy  pinions 

Shake  the  white  down  in  the  air. 

If  we  knew  the  baby  fmgers, 

Pressed  against  the  window-pane. 
Would  be  cold  and  stiff  to-morrow — 

Never  trouble  us  again — 
Would  the  bright  eyes  of  our  darling 

Catch  the  frown  upon  our  brow  ? 
Would  the  print  of  rosy  fingers 

Vex  us  then  as  they  do  now  ? 

Ah  !   those  little  ice-cold  fingers  ! 

How  they  point  our  memories  back. 
To  the  hasty  words  and  actions 

Strewn  along  our  backward  track ! 


204  THE    YOUNG    DECL AIMER. 

How  those  little  hands  remind  us, 
As  in  snowy  grace  they  lie, 

Not  to  scatter  thorns,  but  roses, 
For  our  reaping  by  and  by ! 


Keep  to  the  Eigrht. 

"  Keep  to  the  right,"  as  the  law  directs, 

For  such  is  the  rule  of  the  road  : 
Keep  to  the  right,  whoever  expects 

Securely  to  carry  life's  load. 

Keep  to  the  right,  with  God  and  his  word ; 

Nor  wander,  though  folly  allure ; 
Keep  to  the  right,  nor  ever  be  turned  » 

From  what's  faithful,  and  holy,  and  pure. 

Keep  to  the  right,  within  and  without. 
With  stranger,  and  kindred,  and  friend; 

Keep  to  the  right,  and  you  need  have  no  doubt. 
That  all  will  be  well  in  the  end. 

Keep  to  the  right  in  whatever  you  do. 
Nor  claim  but  your  own  on  the  way ; 

Keep  to  the  right,  and  hold  on  to  the  true. 
From  the  mom  to  the  close  of  life's  day. 


Speak  No  IlL 


Nay,  speak  no  ill !     A  kindly  word 
Can  never  leave  a  sting  behind, 


TUK    YOUNG    DECLAIMER.  205 

And  oh !  to  breathe  each  tale  we've  heard, 

Is  far  beneath  a  noble  mmd. 
Full  oft  a  better  seed  is  sown 

By  choosing  thus  the  kinder  plan  ; 
For  if  but  little  good  be  known, 

Still  let  us  speak  the  best  we  can. 

Give  me  the  heart  that  fain  would  hide- 
Would  fain  another's  faults  efface  ; 

How  can  it  pleasure  hum-m  pride 
To  prove  humanity  but  base  ? 

No  ;  let  us  reach  a  higher  mood, 
A  nobler  estimate  of  man ; 

Be  earnest  in  the  search  for  good, 
And  speak  of  all  the  best  we  can. 

Then  speak  no  ill — but  lenient  be 

To  other's  failings  as  your  own  ; 
If  you're  the  first  a  fault  to  see, 

Be  not  the  first  to  make  it  known ; 
For  life  is  but  a  passing  day, 

No  lip  may  tell  how  brief  its  span ; 
Then  oh !  the  little  time  we  stay, 

Let's  speak  of  all  the  best  we  can. 


YB  3r^892 


QV 


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M69858   ^fSS 


EDOC 
DEPT. 


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